


The Fourth Blood Princess

by LittleMulattoKitten



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-05-03 05:31:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 34,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5278565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMulattoKitten/pseuds/LittleMulattoKitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a tryst with a former classmate leads to parenthood, then single-parenthood when the mother of his child dies, Severus has no choice but to become a spy for the Order. Subjecting himself to the Marauders is the only way to keep his daughter safe. Yet the road ahead is anything but smooth and the children of the Order will grow up so fast...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pilot Chapter

He's struggling against wakefulness when the soft, familiar pattern of tiny feet against glossy marble echoes towards him. For a few moments, the noise is contained to the bedroom two doors down from, but it isn't long before there is the quiet creak of a door and the tip-tap-tipping draws nearer. He continues to uselessly grasp for more sleep when the noise stops outside his door, which is silently pushed open a moment later. He still wasn't used to this sleeping arrangement, but he'd gotten more comfortable with leaving one of his French doors cracked in case he was needed. It wasn't much compared to sharing a bed, but it would have to do. Sleeping separately would encourage independence. He did not wish to stunt her social development by allowing her to be too codependent.

The tip-tap-tipping resumes, halting only when the little feet responsible are beside his bed. There is a beat of silence broken only by the sound of his even breaths since the little body near his bed is uncharacteristically quiet.

"Daddy…?" whispers her little voice so softly he barely hears her. "Are you awake?"

Her upset tone makes him abandon the notion of catching more sleep. Peeking an eye open to gauge her expression, he lets out a worried sigh. Her eyes are round and glossy, wider than they ought to be as she blinks back tears. They're a crystal-clear azure, and her hair is a shade or two lighter than Malfoy blonde, caught somewhere in between snow and vanilla icing. When she’s calm her features more closely resemble his own, but when she’s upset like this she could easily pass for the daughter Narcissa didn’t have.

Without hesitation, he pulls back the edge of his duvet and she scrambles up like a frightened kneazle before she burrows her warm little body against his chest. He frowns when he realizes she’s changed her pajamas. He’d put her to bed in a dark plum nightgown covered in Chinese Fireball dragons, but now she was in pale jade covered with bubbling pewter cauldrons.

"Did you have an accident?" He asks her gently, his voice gruff with sleep.

She was a very accomplished potty trainer, though she still had the occasional nightly mishap. But she shakes her head, to his surprise. And that’s when he notices several pieces of hair that are stuck to her face that are nearly translucent due to their dampness and the darkness of the room.

"No," she mumbles against his nightshirt. "Dah uder ones was sweaty."

He brushes the stuck pieces away from what he can see of her forehead and smooths the rest of her hair back away from her face. She finds comfort in his gentle tending and relaxes further when he curves his other arm under her to rub the stress out of her neck and back. Her pulse starts to slow against his palm as her hair shows the first signs of going back to normal. The only comparison he could draw for this phase of her transition was thick ink gliding from her roots and slowly slipping down the strands. And her eyes, he knew, were shifting from striking blue to dazzling emerald.

"Why so upset this morning, my Roslyn?" He murmurs, keeping his gentle kneading between her shoulder blades in time with the slow draw of his fingers through her hair.

"Bad dweam."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asks gently. She shrugs against him.

"I dunno." She says a moment later.

His frown deepens. She was extremely advanced - mentally and socially - for her age. To be fair, said her first –jumbled and barely recognizable- words at seven months and had walked at ten and a half. Now, at two and a half years, she could hold an honest conversation with any adult, even if she still stumbled over verb tenses and pronunciation from time to time.

So the fact that she hesitated before sharing her thoughts, rather than blurting out every worry in a fit of incoherency and tears, worried him as much as it surprised him. She was too little to have already picked up his habit of suffering in silence, but perhaps this meant she’d be a natural Occlumens, like himself, which would protect her in the future.

After pressing a kiss to the top of her head, he asks, "Was it that terrible?"

Her hair, now mostly a dark purplish-brown, slowly loses the last traces of blonde at the ends while he waits for her to answer. It didn’t matter that he had seen it happen dozens of times since she was born, he still looked on with the curiosity of a scientist and the awe of a father. She’d tested negative as a metamorphmagus, he'd already had her tested. Only her hair and eyes changed and no one knew why.

"It was dawk," she tells him quietly. "And weawy quiet at furst."

He doesn't fill the silence when she pauses. Prodding her for more information than she was willing to give would only upset her again, and he wouldn't have that.

"Mummy was dere..."

He pulls her a little closer.

Regardless of the fact that he had tried his best to make sure Roslyn knew her mother's personality as well as she could it didn’t change the fact that Evangeline wasn’t here. While questions about the late witch were few and far between, it was clear that their daughter thought of her mother often. Not for the first time, Severus found himself wishing that the swotty Ravenclaw had survived childbirth. And tries to remind himself that he couldn’t have saved her even if he’d had time to make an attempt.

"She was yelling a lot...yelling at Miss Lily."

 _Lily?_ That gives him pause, but he doesn’t dare interrupt her yet. Though he would like to know why her subconscious mind seems to think Evangeline would be angry with Lily Potter.

"Miss Lily couldn't heaw her, but she yelled and yelled. She was so _mad_. And she yelled at Hawwy's daddy, and Misser Black and Misser Remus. And Miss Molly and Misser Awe-thor. She yelled at evewybody but they couldn't heaw."

"Why was Mummy yelling?" He asks hesitantly, praying the question doesn't trigger tears.

"Cause they bes mean to us," she says, angrily rather than tearfully.

"They are," he corrects gently and she nods to signify she understood.

"That's all I 'member..." she murmurs.

Sitting up slowly, he pulls her into his lap for a proper hug. "Don't fret on in," he tells her, leaving a trail of kisses from her temple to her cheek. "As long as I have you and you have me, they can be as mean as they want and it won't change a thing."

She tucks herself against him, snugly wrapping her little arms around his neck as she nods in agreement.

"I jus' wishes they wasn't. The uhder kids nevew play with me."

Hiding his frustration, he resumes petting her curls, which were the same shade of inky black of his hair once more.

"As do I, but neither of us wields the power to change them. They can only change themselves. All we can hope to do is ignore and refrain from mimicking their faults. And we'll set up another playdate with Draco and Theodore soon, alright?"

She nods again but instead of letting go he decides to hold her a while longer to get his previous point across. As long as they had each other…

Damn Molly Weasley for only bringing treats to Order meetings for her brood and Harry. Damn Lily for letting her asinine husband steer his son away _every time_ the boy has tried to offer Roslyn a toy, a treat, or to get her to play. Damn Sirius Black for being too much of a child to hide his disdain for himself and, by default, Roslyn, when she and the other children were present. Damn that bloody coward of a Werewolf for not standing up to his friends even though he obviously felt their behavior was wrong. Damn Dumbledore for not putting an end to the petty, now one sided, rivalry between Severus and the Marauders.

Damn each any every one of those bloody Gryffindors, except perhaps Minerva. And Salazar only knew why the witch saw more of a kindred spirit in the daughter of the head of her least favorite house than with the offspring of her former students.

"Come now, my clever little thing," he coaxes, pulling himself out of his thoughts and shuffling them both out of bed. "Tea and breakfast ought to cheer you up."

She pulls back and gives him a thoughtful look as he heads out of the room.

"May I has Waffle Cwisp?"

He exaggerates an eye roll, but sighs, "If you must."

Consenting to letting her eat dessert disguised as breakfast cereal earned him another snug, toddler-sized embrace.

"I love you," she says against his neck.

Squeezing her back, he murmurs. "As I do you, my Roslyn. As I do you."


	2. Confessions of a Ravenclaw

He'd been dozing when the familiar clicking and tapping of a certain witch's sensible heels started to echo towards his place of refuge.

Surrounded by the bright, cool white marble walls of Prince Manor, safe from the hell of winter, he had been reading in one of the smallest, yet no less grandly decorated, sitting rooms. The entire estate was carved out of white marble and accented with various gemstones. The hearth before which he sat was made of such dark dragonfire emerald that without the flames illuminating its surface, one could mistake it for ebony. And while the interior and exterior walls of the great house were solid white marble, the floors were black.

To represent the family's pattern of exclusively dishing out Slytherins and Ravenclaws to the wizarding world, the sparse veins in the dark marble floors were emerald, sapphire, silver, and bronze. The house elves, who had respectable uniforms rather than dingy dishtowels, wore whichever house colors aligned with their favorite master or mistress. Since coming into his inheritance, he had found that the majority of the elves had been aligned towards the last Ravenclaw in the family – his late grandmother – and up until recently the majority had returned to silver and green.

The clicking of her heels stops outside the door to his drawing room. He flicks his wand before she can knock and sets the volume in his other hand on the table beside him. He hadn’t been expecting her to return this soon, but he certainly wasn’t going to send her away.

"You came all the way out here in this weather to see me?" he says sarcastically. "I feel special indeed."

"To be fair, it's both our faults I am here," she replies softly.

He frowns at her in confusion and stands, setting his wand beside his book before crossing the room. She lets him undo her traveling cloak. She concedes when he motions for her to take the chair opposite his own. But she hesitates when he's settled before the fire once more and he refuses to break the silence first.

Her gaze stays trained on the flames – charmed silver so the light glows against the marble – until finally she speaks up again.

"I do not understand how this might have happened, Severus," she murmurs. "But it has and I wish for you to know that I expect nothing from you."

He glares with an eyebrow raised. "Spit it out, for Salazar's sake, Evangeline."

Finally meeting his gaze, she says, "I'm pregnant, Sev."

And he stares at her. "We used the charms."

"Yes."

"And you're taking the potion."

"Yes. Properly. Every week."

"Then how-"

"I don't know, Severus. All I know is that I am and it's yours. But that doesn't mean you have to-

"Don't even for one moment insinuate that I would relinquish my responsibilities as a father. I may not be the best of men, but I am self-respecting enough to not abandon my child simply because the timing is inconvenient. It's not its fault it was made, after all."

With a huff she pushes back her well-kept mass of ebony curls and fixes him with a brown-eyed glare. "I only meant that I do not intend to use our child to trap you into anything."

"Because I'd allow myself to be manipulated by a _Ravenclaw_."

"Last time I was here I remember you being rather easy to _manipulate_."

He offers her little more than a sly grin. "As were you, if I recall. In fact, our mutual manipulative talents are what landed us in this predicament."

With a roll of her eyes, she settles back into her seat and crosses her ankles. "What now?"

His brow quirks once more. "Shall we live together here or would you rather co-parent from afar?"

She shrugs. "If I'm wanted, here is fine."

"You do realize you're already bearing the child of a Death Eater. And now you want to live with one?"

Her eyes narrow. "I'm having the child of a man who was tormented most of his life and has never had a soul give him a proper chance. A man who was tricked into joining what is essentially a cult. A Slytherin who's more than cunning enough to keep his child safe, regardless of his own mistakes."

He huffs in irritation. "Very well."

"We can start moving me in tomorrow if you aren't busy."

He nods. "I'd like to do some research. The healer certification courses only went over the basics of pregnancy and I'd like to be prepared."

She waves him off. "I'll deal with that."

"Alone? Like hell you will. There is absolutely no reason why I shouldn't be aware of any problems or discomforts you may have in the coming months. No reason why I shouldn't know what to expect as far as the child's development is concerned. For Merlin's sake, if I've already helped make the child, I should be able to handle the less savory details."

Evangeline smiles for the first time that evening. "I could still miscarry," she reminds him.

"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it."

Standing, she walks over to his and places a kiss on his forehead.

"You may think you're not worth much, but you're going to be an excellent father, I assure you."

With a stubborn 'humph' he gently pulls her into his lap. "Are there any rules about manipulating pregnant women that I should be aware of?"

She chuckles soundlessly. "Only when other health concerns are present, and there aren't any in my case. I've already done a fair share of research, you know."

He quiets her with his lips. "I'll be gentle nonetheless," he murmurs. "Now shut up, you little swot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter! 
> 
> Tumblr: littlemulattokitten.tumblr.com


	3. Push and Shove

Perhaps his favorite part of being the master of an ancient family estate was the ability to apparate directly into whatever room he wished. And after the evening he had just endured, being able to pop right into the kitchen for a much-needed cup of tea was exactly what he needed.

He had not expected, however, that a certain irritatingly stubborn, attractive, and very pregnant Ravenclaw to be sitting at the breakfast bar waiting for him. Though perhaps he should have…She even made _tea_ for Merlin’s sake. But instead of thanking her, he narrows his eyes.

“You should be in bed,” he says through clenched teeth.

She takes her time sipping gingerly from her steaming cup before she sets it down with an air of superiority. “I’m _pregnant_ , Severus, not an invalid.”

“You need your rest,” he presses.

“It’s not as if _this one-_ ” she gestures meaningfully at the swell of her stomach, “- would let me anyhow! Little wiggle worm won’t sit still if you’re not around.”

He rolls his eyes, vanishing his Death Eater robes as he takes the stool beside her and begins fixing his tea.

“That’s illogical,” he snaps. “The baby absolutely cannot tell whether I am in the room being quiet or not present at all.”

Evangeline huffs beside him. “A _muggle_ baby, perhaps. Though it is quite rare, it _has_ been documented that some magical children are especially sensitive to one or both parent’s magical signatures. It’s not a guarantee since some children grow out of it, but there have been studies that prove a connection between en utero magical sensitivity and magical prowess later in li-”

He holds up a hand to stop her. “You made your point half a textbook ago.”

 “Oh shut up, you prat,” she sighs, swatting his arm for emphasis. “How did it go?”

He grunts as he stirs sugar into his tea. “As well as expected. Lucius, Theron Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, and myself may as well be leading the Renaissance. Only Crabbe and Goyle weren’t put on mandatory leave. Now the rest of us are only required to be present at the major status update meetings. We’re no longer expected to be part of raids. Our duty to the cause has officially switched to raising the ‘next generation’ and sculpting them to best suit the Dark Lord’s needs. Congratulations. You’re pregnant with a madman’s future soldier.”

The bitterness in his tone does not go unnoticed and thought she knows it’s useless, Evangeline tries to comfort him. “He won’t win, Severus.”

He glares at her. “I’ve been talking with Albus and Minerva. The chances of them helping us are slim.”

Her hand, the one that had smacked him not five minutes prior, comes to rest against his shoulder.

“You’ll still be at the important meetings. You’ll still have plenty of information for them if they accept you as a spy. Do they even know that the Dark Lord has his own spy among their ranks?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I also do not know his identity.”

“Yet.”

He stares at her. “Awfully optimistic for a Ravenclaw tonight, aren’t you?”

She graces him with a smile and takes on of his hands from his teacup instead of answering. She doesn’t even give him the chance to asks her what she’s doing before she presses his palm against her stomach.

He’s neither aware that he’s holding his breath, nor that he’s gone completely rigid on his stool. Never in his presence had the baby so much as twitched. Evangeline claimed that when he left it was extremely active, that if he wasn’t in the room the little monster thumped and kicked and took her breath away. And though he kept such thoughts to himself, he assumed it was simply because he _was_ that off-putting to other people, even the unborn. That he was that unworthy of affection, even from his growing child. That the little one would cling to its mother but cry when he was near.

And then he felt it. It wasn’t strong, but it was _there_. Pressure against his palm that was just enough to be felt through Evangeline’s soft maternity pajamas. Just pressing, hardly moving around. But pressing against his palm nonetheless.

“Breathe, Severus,” Evangeline says quietly, still smiling sweetly. “She’s happy you’re home.”

“You don’t know the gender,” he manages to murmur, still unmoving. “Nor its thoughts.”

“I know she’s been pushing in your direction since you got here.”

“Coincidence,” he argues.

She rolls her eyes and gives him a look. “She can feel that you’re here, Sev. Trust that.”

It takes him several moments to remember how to breathe consistently again. All the while he’s acutely aware of every muted fidget of his child under his hand.

“What makes you think it’s female?” He asks suddenly.

Her hand, still covering his own atop her stomach, squeezes his fingers. “When children show magical sensitivity early, there’s a distinct pattern. Boys are exclusively sensitive to their mother’s magic while girls can be sensitive to either.”

He gives her a look she’s used to interpreting.

“Yes, yes, I know the world isn’t ruled by data and concrete patterns. She _could_ be an anomaly, but she isn’t, Sev. I know she isn’t.”

He doesn’t show it, but he believes her and takes some small comfort in that knowledge. Most of the men he knew were selfish bastards who only loved others for their own benefit. At least with a daughter he has some slim chance of being loved in return without an ulterior motive.

_Just a few more months…_ He reminds himself. _Then she’ll start judging you for herself. Slowly, but surely she’ll decide what kind of person you are. And once again you won’t make the cut._

“You love your Daddy don’t you?” Evangeline says to their hands, harshly contradicting his thoughts. “He loves you too.”

He bites back words he wants to throw at her. Babies can’t love en utero. She doesn’t even know who he is yet. Don’t teach her to love him, let her do it on her own if she’s willing. Don’t make him hope for things he doesn’t deserve.

Even if he already is.


	4. A Rose By Any Other Name

Chalk slid smoothly across blackboard in the otherwise silent front parlor. Severus watched the very pregnant witch’s hand as letters looped and curved to form words in her familiar script. Her list was slowly starting to fill the conjured blackboard as she took care to reference the book in her chalk-free hand, which was littered with notes and tabs for specific pages. She’d only just finished the next word when he finally piped up.

“No. Absolutely not.”

The chalk halts as she frowns at him over her shoulder. “What’s wrong with ‘Avery’?”

He rolls his eyes. “Death Eater.”

She sighs, but erases the name anyway before starting on the next one. She doesn’t even get three more written down before he’s ready to rip his hair out.

“For Merlin’s sake, no bloody A’s,” he finally growls.

She whirls on him, as awkwardly as a woman less than two weeks from her due date could anyway, and glares.

“Honestly, Severus?” She snaps. “What now? Are there Death Eaters named ‘Alice’, ‘Alondra’, ‘Andromeda’, ‘Ariella’, ‘Adele’, and ‘Anastasia’?!”

“Alice Longbottom is a member of the Order and Narcissa Malfoy has a disowned sister named Andromeda. Ariella is too close to the name of a Squib Albus is friends with. As for the rest, I simply am not fond of names that start with A,” he says in an annoyed tone, leaning back against his plush chair in an attempt to get more comfortable. “I understand that starting our search at the beginning of the alphabet may prove to be the most organized method, but picking dozens of names from _each letter category_ is inefficient.”

Evangeline considers him a moment, then quickly writes each letter individually at the top of the blackboard. Once satisfied with her work, she returns her attention to him.

“Alright then,” she says. “Pick a letter.”

His eyebrow twitches upward, as it so often does when she’s near. “ _Why_ , pray tell, did you even bother writing the letter ‘A’?”

She crosses it out with more force than necessary, giving him an irritated look when she’s finished.

“Pick. A. Letter. Severus.”

He rolls his eyes. “’C’”

“Carly,” she offers.

“No.”

“Caitlin?”

“Overused.”

“Clemensia.”

“Why don’t we just name her _Chlamydia_ now and save any schoolyard bullies the trouble of being clever on their own?”

Wisely, Evangeline doesn’t comment on the subject.

“Claryssa.”

Severus ponders that one a moment, staring into the empty fireplace on the rightmost wall from his seat. Evangeline observes his contemplative silence with no small amount of surprise. When she’d pointed out that they needed to discuss, and decide on, a name for their child before she got any closer to term, she’d been expecting to spend hours getting shot down before they even found something he found _somewhat_ acceptable. If he happened to look up, he would find the pregnant Ravenclaw sporting a very self-satisfied smirk.

“Spelled how?” Severus says finally, still regarding the empty fireplace pensively.

“C-L-A-R-Y-S-S-A,” she supplies immediately.

He shakes his head, almost to himself, and her shoulders sag in disappointment.

“No…” he mutters absently.

Evangeline’s face falls. At this rate, they wouldn’t even have a ‘Maybe’ list until their child was two. Restoring a stubborn set to her shoulders, she angles her gaze downward to search the pages in her book for more ‘C’ names she likes. Severus speaks up again before she’s so much as started to skim.

“With an ‘I’.”

“Pardon?” She questions, confusion coloring her features.

“C-L-A-R- _I_ -S-S-A,” he clarifies. “Clarissa with an ‘I’. It’ll look better in cursive.”

Evangeline starts grinning again. “So is that a maybe?”

He finally glances in her direction, only to roll his eyes and glare.

“Indeed it is,” he murmurs, even though he hates to give her the satisfaction. “Now you pick a letter and hand me that grimoire sized book of baby names you’re barely balancing on one arm.”

Though it took several hours and every ounce of patience Severus owned, they did manage to make a list of first a middle name combinations that they both found satisfactory. While Evangeline found the more unique names of their list more appealing, Severus based his preferences on two criteria - How the name felt when spoken and how it looked written in cursive.

On the blackboard, in Evangeline’s pretty cursive, nine names were written.

_Clarissa_

_Cassandra_

_Raven_

_Roslyn_

_Sadira_

_Sarafina_

_Sophia_

_Iridessa_

_Serpentina_

Severus didn’t like every name on that list. If he was being perfectly honest, he only liked _Clarissa_ , _Roslyn_ , and _Sarafina_ , but Evangeline had liked the others so much he’d consented to putting them on the list. But the longer he stared at the names written in chalk the more he found himself coming back to the same one.

“Do you have a favorite?” Evangeline asks him gently when she notices him staring intently at the board.

He gives her an accusatory sort of look but nods reluctantly even though he doesn’t like where she seems to be going with this line of questioning.

“Which one?”

“Are you going to let my preference influence your own?” He challenges.

Evangeline seats herself in the chair to his left, between himself and the blackboard.

“You shouldn’t be up so much,” he admonishes her before conjuring an ottoman so she can prop her feet up.

She ignores his comment but answers his question. “It may influence my decision, yes, but that isn’t a bad thing. You’re far more decisive than I am, anyhow.”

She had him there.

“Roslyn.”

She perks up at his reluctant admission and gives him a fond look that makes a strange feeling stir in his chest. A less overwhelming form of the sensation he used to associate with Lily mixed with the tenderness he couldn’t help but feel when thinking of his unborn child. It was pleasant enough…but rather unnerving.

If Evangeline notices his deeply contemplative expression, she doesn’t comment on it. She does, however, idly rub her swollen stomach with a slight smile on her lips. And if he hadn’t been watching her he would have missed it when she mouthed “Roslyn Snape” to herself. Though he would never admit aloud how nicely those words rang in his ears...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you for reading~


	5. Allegiances

“As most of you are aware, I have a second spy among Dumbledore’s ranks…”

Severus’s attention spiked at the Dark Lord’s admission. He had been to roughly a meeting a month since alerting his fellow Death Eaters that he was expecting a child, and very little useful information had come of those meetings. Severus was teetering on a dangerous line by trying to play as a spy for both Dumbledore and Voldemort, with neither role showing any signs of offering his unborn daughter the safety and security he sought for. Evangeline was certain he could get the necessary information to give the Light a sizable advantage, but Severus knew first hand just how efficiently dark magic could conquer. The Light only had a chance if the Dark Lord had managed to unknowingly make a mistake.

“He is marked, of course, however…” The Dark Lord trails off as he paces slowly within the ring of his Death Eaters.

Severus couldn’t understand how, with no external motivation, one man had gone to such great lengths to become the embodiment of everything negatively associated with his Hogwarts house. So much so, that as he paced through the overgrown grass in the meadow he’d chosen for their meeting place, he seemed as if he were slithering.

“Well, we shall say that he is not nearly as capable as the rest of you.”

A round of quiet chuckles ghosts through Voldemort’s infamous inner circle. But neither Severus, nor Lucius, nor Theron Nott makes a sound, unbeknownst to the rest of the group.

“Regardless of his shortcomings,” Riddle continues. “He has provided us with invaluable information. We are not the only ones breeding our next generation, it seems…”

And much to the delight of his most deranged followers, Voldemort goes into great detail about the couples of the Order, their strengths, weaknesses, and purpose to the group at large. Then he starts on their children.

Alice and Frank Longbottom’s son Neville, one month old.

Lily and James Potter’s son Harry, one month old.

Molly and Arthur Weasley’s sons. Bill, nearly ten years old; Charlie, nearly six years old; Percy, four years old; Fred and George, two and a half years old; and Ron, their youngest, at six months old.

Riddle goes on to explain his tentative plans for individual attacks on each of these families. The Lestranges  chime in, sparking a debate on whether it would be more effective to kill the children before or after killing their parents. Children first wins out, and from there it’s a discussion on specifics. Fenrir Greyback has a taste for infant flesh. Rodolphus Lestrange wants to know what happens to children when put under the Cruciatus. Avery suggests something conductive to his pyromania. Bellatrix wants to watch ‘the little beasties’ drown.

The Dark Lord decides that attacking the families of the Order will be their final mass attack before conquering the Ministry and decides that the hits will be executed in just over a year’s time. He plans to have magical Britain under his rule by Christmas after next.

Severus, who had been longing for his dinner at the beginning of the meeting, was now lightheaded and nauseous. Though he held a special level of hatred for the Marauders, and thereby anyone who condoned their flawed social skills, in no way shape or form did he wish such fates on their children. The mere thought of his own child being subjected to the madman before him was nauseating enough. It didn’t help that with every suggestion made by Bellatrix, every psychotic notion spouted by her husband and brother-in-law made his mind picture his child under such conditions. Shredded and eaten by the notoriously deranged werewolf, Fenrir. Set aflame by Avery. Tortured beyond comprehension by Rodolphus.

And suddenly Severus realizes that no matter how unlikely the odds may become, he has to prevent Voldemort from winning the war. He was having a girl for Salazar’s sake. There was no hope for her to live a normal, happy life if the Ministry was under the thumb of a man who not only condoned but encouraged rape and murder. A man who was extremely pleased that Severus was having a daughter so she could be nothing more than a toy to dangle in front of the other’s sons to encourage their cooperation. Nothing more than a tool to breed with.

He couldn’t be the only father (soon to be or otherwise) that was regretting the side they’d chosen to fight for. Certainly Lucius, if not, Narcissa, was starting to realize that his child’s well being was in jeopardy while they followed Voldemort. Theron Nott recently widowed and raising his son by himself, was the only other Death Eater that had never displayed the same level of blood lust as some of the others. The issue was figuring out if they’d be willing to help him discover the other spy’s identity without compromising his position.

“Severus…”

He stands a bit straighter and calmly answers, “Yes, My lord?” in spite of his still present nausea.

“Remind me. When is your hatchling due?”

It takes a small amount of effort not to grind his teeth. The Dark Lord had developed a preference to the term snakelets rather than children. And they were hatchlings until they started learning to move around on their own. Every time he heard either term it severely tested his patience. They didn’t know for certain how the children would be sorted for one, nor was it guaranteed that all of them would even go to Hogwarts. Severus knew that Narcissa wanted to make sure Draco was properly immersed in his family history, and thereby would be well-versed in the French language no doubt. Beauxbatons may have had a large female population compared to their male population, but that wouldn’t stop the mistress of Malfoy Manor from sending her son there.

Severus had yet to inform Narcissa that he wished her to be his child’s godmother. Not because he wanted her exposed to Lucius, but because he knew Narcissa would raise Roslyn how he wished even if it went against her own views. And if Narcissa accepted the role and did send Draco to Beauxbatons, Roslyn would undoubtedly be sent off right to France alongside him.

“She’s due any day now,” Severus answers smoothly, managing not to lock his jaw in irritation.

“And your progress with Dumbledore?”

Severus forces himself to smirk. “I’ll have the next year to review, modify, and perfect my syllabus for Potions. Slughorn will retire next June, at which time I will take his place.”

Voldemort chuckles low and sinister. “Excellent. We’ll have one of our own to overlook the newest recruits, and then the snakelets once they’ve grown. Though by then there’s no reason why we shouldn’t have entirely replaced the staff with...more favorable appointees.”

Beauxbatons. She was going to Beauxbatons. Period.

Fortunately, it isn’t long before the meeting comes to a close and the various parties Disapparate with each other. Lucius surprises both Severus and Theron Nott when he offers them to stop at the manor for a spot of Ogden’s. Seizing the opportunity to, hopefully, get both men on his side, Severus accepts. He does take a moment to summon one of the elves from Prince Manor - Topaz - and tells the elf to inform Evangeline that he’ll be returning slightly later than expected.

Lucius is fidgety once the three are settled in his favorite drawing room, somewhat to Severus’s surprise, but he doesn’t break the increasingly awkward silence. Theron Nott was tall, dark haired, sat with the usual ingrained pureblood posture, and not known for his patience. So while Lucius squirmed, Theron grew irritated.

“Good God, Lucius,” the eldest of the three growls. “Spit it out!”

Lucius shoots Theron an anxious sort of glare while Severus watches on with mild interest. He had an idea of what was bothering Lucius since, like himself, the Malfoy patriarch hadn’t done more than sip his whiskey, whereas Theron was actively trying not to down the entire glass. Nausea still rolled in Severus’s system, and the burn of the whiskey wasn’t enough to trick his stomach into settling.

Lucius sets down his mostly full tumbler with a shaking hand before he speaks up. “Tonight was...interesting, was it not, gentlemen?”

With an impatient sigh, Theron snaps, “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘revolting’, Lucius.”

“Or perhaps ‘nauseating’,” Severus mutters.

Lucius rubs his face and attempts a deep breath. “Cissa is terrified,” He says into his hands. “If we lose the war, we’ll be hard-pressed to avoid Azkaban. And if we win-”

“We subject our children to the tutelage of the Lestranges and the Dark Lord,” Theron says through clenched teeth. “Theo will already have to grow up without a mother; I refuse to subject him to this madness. This isn’t what I signed up for.”

“Agreed,” chimes Severus. “Be thankful neither of you expected a girl.”

His companions wore matching expressions of distaste.

“Do we even have any options?” Theron inquires.

Severus sets his whiskey on the coffee table as well, no longer desiring it.

“We do,” he says carefully. “Though there is very little I can divulge to you at this time.”

Lucius frowns. “Don’t tell me…Dumbledore?”

Severus raises a brow in his direction but doesn’t comment.

Theron sighs, knocks back his firewhiskey, and says, “Sod it. Fine. If that’s our only option.”

“It is,” Severus says coolly, leveling Lucius with a challenging glare.

Malfoy’s jaw clenches and unclenches several times before he nods in Severus’s direction.

“And how exactly do we secure Dumbledore’s help, then?” He snaps.

Again, Severus simply raises a brow, unspeaking.

Theron chuckles. “Severus, you prick. You’re making us look like Hufflepuffs, for Salazar’s sake.”

Lucius groans as Severus smirks at Nott.

“So we have our way in,” Theron says, ignoring Lucius. “What’s the old coot after? Names? Attack dates? Dates of our enthralling little tea parties?”

“He wants an advantage,” Severus answers. “We need to identify the spy.”

“The _other_ spy, you mean,” Lucius clarifies.

Severus’s brow arches up once again, only this time he’s annoyed. “I am having a _daughter_ , Lucius. _A girl_. Now, you’ve recently become acquainted with one of the many curious talents of the fairer sex - the ability to _produce children_. Shall we review the Dark Lord’s inner circle? Ourselves, the sanest of the bunch. Bellatrix, increasingly psychotic by the hour. Rodolphus, a sadist with a penchant for rape and prolonged deaths, not to mention a great fan of _Jack the Ripper_ , one of the most appalling wizards to ever exist.

“Rabastan, who was _specifically recruited_ because he’s twice as fond of Jack the Ripper than his brother. Avery, a pyromaniac with a taste for _cannibalism_!” Severus snarls, ignoring the fact that Lucius has paled considerably.  “What did you expect, Lucius? Shall I do the Dark Lord’s bidding and allow her to become a sodding _birther_ or do I take to my knees and pray she be allowed to be faithfully and exclusively married to a son of his choosing? Perhaps he’ll give her to Draco or perhaps little Theodore! Or Gregory, or Vincent, who knows, Lucius?! But let’s take a gamble, shall we?! Allow me to put my faith in a man who sees my unborn child as nothing but _cattle_!”

Silence rings throughout the drawing room for several tense seconds while Severus barely keeps from losing the little self-control he has left. He hadn’t cried in years and he wasn’t about to start again now. He would find a way to protect his child. He had to.

Theron sucks in a shaky breath and murmurs, “I'll try to keep an ear out.”

Lucius nods slowly, still stunned and shaken by the realities Severus forced him to face. “I'll talk to Cissa…”

“No need. Do it.”

They all turn to the door to find Narcissa in her nightclothes, covered with a heavy cloak and looking only minutely less upset than her husband. “For Merlin’s sake, do whatever’s necessary to protect our children…”

Lucius stands and goes to comfort his wife as she trembles with barely suppressed tears on Severus’s behalf as well as her own. Severus reaches forward, reclaims his whiskey and tosses it back in one swallow.

“God help us,” Theron mutters.

God help them, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re picking up speed now, lovelies. And I’m already 1/3 of the way through the next chapter.  
> See you soon~


	6. Daddy's Girl

The night of August twenty-second finds Severus returning home much later than he desired. He had spent the evening speaking with Dumbledore and McGonagall to discuss their options for dealing with Voldemort’s second spy, Severus’s continued involvement with the Order of the Phoenix, Lucius and Theron’s shift in priorities, and the threats against every child in the Order.

Each topic had been more exhausting than the last. They had to develop a strategy to discover the identity of the other spy without drawing his attention. Severus couldn’t reveal himself to the rest of the Order - not that he _wanted_ to expose himself to the Marauders in the first place - until the other spy was identified. Lucius and Theron, if they were truly sincere and managed to pull through with helping Severus collect information for the Light, would be pardoned in the war, just like Severus was promised. Then there was the fact that the threats against the children and their families couldn’t be addressed until the other spy was removed.

All in all, his evening had been excessively long and exhausting. With less than thirty minutes to midnight, Severus decides that a strong cup of tea is in order. Then he’d make his way up to bed and fall asleep next to the mother of his child, as he had somewhat grown accustomed to doing in the past several months. Shuffling into the kitchen, he tries not to think too much about the implications of his relationship with Evangeline, and fails.

They were…friends. Sort of. She drove him to madness half the time and he tried her patience for the hell of it the other half. Though once and a while she did something he - begrudgingly - found endearing. Like the way she gently stroked her stomach while reading something she found particularly interesting or how easily she could talk to the baby as if she were already born and fluent in her native tongue. How easily she got on with his house elves, half of which had suited their wardrobes to match her house colors and addressed her as their mistress regardless of the fact that she and Severus weren’t married. Or that she knew when to respect his desire for solitude verses when he needed company and distraction but was too stubborn and self-loathing to ask for it.

Or that rather than acknowledging his anxieties about parenthood, she’d simply find or purchase another parenting book for him to inhale, memorize, and compare to the ones he’d already finished. Not once did she press for details about his family history, nor inquire more about his time at Hogwarts verses her own, yet she seemed to have come across the knowledge anyway. At least, that was the only reason he could come up with for why she had crossed out ‘Lily’, ‘Petunia’, and ‘Eileen’ in her book of baby names prior to the day they discussed names for their daughter.

Where every woman in his life had brought small comforts and left him with migraines, Evangeline had stormed in by comparison, accompanied by only the occasional slight headache. He could count the number of their ‘dalliances’ prior to discovering her pregnancy on one hand, all of which had happened within the same month. And if his math was correct, their child had been conceived from their first union, on the night he thought he was losing his mind. The night he couldn’t compartmentalize his mother’s suicide any longer. The night the overwhelming sense of abandonment inflicted on him by his mother, and the long buried pain from the end of his friendship with Lily Evans, sent him fleeing Spinner’s End to search for alcohol and somewhere to stave off his loneliness.

As much as he hated to admit it, the little swot had grown on him. Though how deep that connection ran, he dared not consider. The twinge in his chest he felt for his child was worrisome enough without adding the warmth directed towards her mother.

While his tea steeps, he briefly rakes his eyes around the kitchen. Evangeline had managed to replace the wilting flowers in the vase by the sink while he was away, it seemed. Every week she had a different type of roses spread throughout the estate, to ‘liven things up’. And this week he would be surrounded by Rosa Peace once again. To be fair, he already preferred the sunny yellow flower and it’s pale pink trimmed petals to last week’s assortment Queen Elizabeth roses. Evangeline had developed a more intense preference for roses at the dawn of her second trimester and Severus had suffered many a lecture on the differences between various genus types and perfumes while being unable to escape the ‘variety of the week’ no matter what room he ran off to.

And it’s while he’s studying her accursed plants that he notices how oddly quiet the manor is.

Typically, if he wasn’t home before she grew tired, Evangeline fell asleep with muggle music playing and one of the doors to his bedroom slightly ajar. The music would echo gently off the marble, always just loud enough to be heard from the kitchen. Yet as he strained, Severus heard nothing.

Abandoning his tea, he briskly makes his way back through the house, taking the marble stairs two at a time. Silence reigns even as he draws nearer to the bedroom, disrupted only by the steady, dull thudding of blood pounding in his ears.   The Manor feels twice its size as he sprints down the main hall of the West Wing towards the master suite, even though he knows the journey through the house only feels long because he's panicking. He berates himself as he nears the doors. She's probably fine. Exhausted and more than ready to have their child, but fine. He's being paranoid.

 

But when he throws open the french doors and finds the room empty, his pounding blood runs cold. For several moments he stands helplessly in the doorway while the thought ‘She’s not here’ echoes around in his mind, but refuses to fully sink in. It’s until his chest aches with the breath he unintentionally held that he inhales suddenly, snapping out of his daze, and summons an elf.

“Topaz!”

The accompanying pop causes him to jump in spite of knowing the noise was coming, as the elf in question floats before him, looking as frantic as he felt.

“Master Sev’rus! Quickly, quickly!” Topaz cries, “We’s only just took Mistress Evangeline to St. Mungo’s, Sir!”

Quite certain that his brain and body are entirely disconnected at this point, Severus silently reaches out a hand Topaz apparates them without hesitation.

They appear, sans the typical jarring sensation of wizard-to-wizard side-along apparation, in a private waiting room. The other nine elves of Prince Manor are present, sitting anxiously huddled together on the larger of two cream colored sofas. The walls were a neutral sandy color only a few shades darker than the furniture, with large black decals of savanna wildlife above the baseboards. The right and left walls each sport unassuming white doors, the left of which opens just as Severus has somewhat regained his bearings.

A petite witch with straight light brown hair cut just below her jawline and pristine white robes enters the room. She shifts the chart in her right hand to her left once the door is open and eyes him expectantly.

“Severus Snape?”

Numbly, he answers, “Yes.”

“My name is Healer Chandler. Follow me please,” she says calmly, propping the door open with her back so he can exit.

He complies, though his mind is swirling with partially formed questions and still not in sync with his body. But the mediwitch’s pace is brisk as she leads him down a narrow, blindingly white hallway. They're journey is entirely silent and the hallway bare of anything interesting to look at on the way through. At the end is a security checkpoint, which they pass through without difficulty into another white walled hall, but this time the walls have glass panes. And beyond them in dimly lit spaces are various little beds. Most of them empty, but some of them have wriggling or softly breathing inhabitants. A few mediwitches keep watch over the and one exhausted mother feeding her newborn.

Some part of him manages to realize that he’s going to have one of those pale squirming bundles very soon.

Another security checkpoint and then Severus is being lead past rows of rooms, most of which have shut doors. Garish pastel blues and pinks decorate most of the doorframes they pass and the muffled cries of a few newborns manage to drift into the hall. But for the most part everything is uncomfortably quiet.

“How is she?” Severus asks suddenly,

If Healer Chandler is surprised by his sudden question, it doesn’t show.

“The mother or the child?” She asks him.

His brow furrows. _Shouldn't the answer be the same?_

“...Both,” he says slowly.

“The baby was doing fine when your elf Apat informed us that you’d summoned one of the others,” she answers. “The mother, however, is quite unwell. All we know for certain is that her magical core isn't correctly connected with her person. We have yet to determine why this imbalance has occurred.”

Severus is momentarily stunned into silence. Having one's magical core out of sync with the body was no small matter, typically only occurring after exposure to highly unstable magical fields. And if Evangeline had somehow managed to be subjected to such an environment, the baby would certainly.

“When she arrived, what state was she in?”

“She seemed like any other woman ready to have her first child, only less terrified and with a better grasp of what was going on,” Healer Chandler replies easily. “She was ready to push by the time we had her properly situated and was making good progress under the circumstances. The constant fluctuations in her magic have knocked her unconscious a few times, though she comes to rather quickly and is perfectly lucid otherwise.”

They come to a fork in the hall, both paths curving to one side. She leads him down the right path, though it feels more like a tunnel, and he notices the bold black letters painted along the walls.

**Maternal and Infant Magical Anomaly Sector**

**No Wand Usage Beyond This Point***

***Unless Authorized Personnel**

He's about to retort with another inquiry, when the atmosphere suddenly shifts. All at once everything in the hospital seems to still. The nighttime hum of St. Mungo’s maternity ward completely ceases for several moments, until a faint muffled cry was heard from the last room on the left side of the hall.

Both Severus and Healer Chandler halted, having sensed the shift as it happened. The pair turn to one another, Severus questioningly, Healer Chandler in shock, and the latter of the two draws her wand.

“That was far stronger than any magical fluctuation I've ever felt,” He says quietly. “What on Earth…?”

“I have no idea,” She replies.

And then they hear it, the crying, faint and pitiful as all newborn cries are. Healer Chandler takes off, sprinting the final few paces to their destination. It's only after she disappears inside that Severus starts following her. And then he realizes that it's _his_ child crying.

His hands are shaking as he pushes open the door. The sight beyond it sending his head spinning. Chandler, shaking quite noticeably, had magically severed the umbilical cord and swaddled the fussing newborn in a white blanket. But to do so she had to work around her eerily still colleagues. Two mediwizards and three mediwitches were gathered around Evangeline - who was as unmoving as they were - each frozen midway between some task or another. Their varied expressions were stuck, some fully formed, some in mid transition from one emotion to another. None of the breathed.

Chandler quickly and gently brought the white bundle - which he swore smelled oddly sweet - over to him, and he  accepted it more so out of reflex than conscious thought. Chandler proceeded to usher him out into the hall, telling him to stay put before shutting him off from room of human statues.

A wail, louder than the rest admitted so far, brings him back to his senses, drawing his gaze back to the small and oh so very light bundle in his arms. The bundle that amazed and terrified him all at once while he carefully, slowly, paced the length of the too-quiet hall.

“Shh...you're alright,” he murmurs in an attempt to comfort his child. Though the words felt foreign and strange on his tongue. “I have you...Daddy has you…”

To his great surprise, she quieted immediately upon hearing his voice and her red teary eyes opened. He could swear she was trying to find his face, but also knew that newborns shouldn't be quite so aware as she seemed.Though she should be very nearsighted regardless...

Gently, he adjusts her so that he's cradling her closer to his face and tilts her towards him. The actions have the desired result in that she manages to meet his gaze, stunning him momentarily as he realizes that her dark eyes are not the typical newborn blue, but rather a very dark sort of green. Though the whites were so red that it distorted the color somewhat, making her irises appear darker than they actually were.

And she stares at him with a steadiness that is equally stunning as it is unnerving.

“Please don't fuss,” he continues quietly. “You're alright…”

She blinks at him while her little body continues to quiver with unsteady breaths. It prides him somewhere in the back of his mind that without truly knowing what he's doing, he's managing to comfort this little creature in his arms. The little creature he _made,_ regardless of the fact that her conception had been accidental.

“I love you…” he murmurs.

Evangeline had said the words freely to her stomach throughout the pregnancy, throwing in that he loved their child as well from time to time. He knew the meaning of the words even though he could not recall definitive instances of the concept in his own life. He had loved Lily at one point, but without acknowledgment and reciprocation. He could only remember his mother as distant and cold, his father drunk and argumentative. Neither had been affectionate or caring like the Evans had been with Lily and Petunia.

But he would be different.

He holds her closer, close enough to realize that the sweet scent he noticed before was, in fact, his child. And while Chandler had managed to clean the newborn up quite well, there was still some cheese-like substance matting down the dark hair behind her ears. He figured that since the rules of the world weren't making a whole lot of sense at the moment, then it wouldn't hurt if he laid her on the padded bench at the end of the hall, broke the “no wand usage” rule, and tidied her up properly.

He tested a few spells just to be safe and when nothing untoward happened as a result, a gentle warming charm was cast around them so he could unswaddle her without making her too cold.

His unusually aware newborn was calm, quiet, and still as he gently went about cleaning her properly. He started with the creases between each soft layer of baby fat around her neck, then worked his way down each arm. He was confident enough in his ability to repeat the spell he'd learned in the six weeks medical training course he had to take as part of his potions apprenticeship and teaching credentials to cast the spell that severed the rest of the umbilical cord - _painlessly_ \- and then healed the child's bellybutton properly.

She was an innie.

He had to glance back up several times as he cleaned her top half, as her stillness unnerved him. Yet each time she was just laying there watching him so he made sure to keep his face near enough for her to see with ease. He only just starts to wonder why she's so attuned to him when he recalls a night in the kitchen with Evangeline.

_Little wiggle worm won’t sit still if you’re not around..._

_She's happy you're home..._

_I know she's been pushing in your direction since you got here..._

_She can feel that you’re here, Sev. Trust that..._

He glances back up, pleased to see her eyes aren't quite so red anymore, and gives her a small smile.

“Daddy loves you,” He says again.

The atmosphere shifts once again, this time righting itself. Chaos erupts from the room where Roslyn was born.

And when Chandler comes to find him several minutes later, he learns that it would also be the room Evangeline would die in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took a while. I got stuck on something that ties in with the plot a bit later.
> 
> I've got the next chapter written out (I just need to make my final edits) and I'm working on Chapter 8 now.


	7. Evangeline/"What About You?"

“Oh those eyes, Sev, have you ever seen such eyes?”

He shakes his head numbly as Evangeline strokes their daughter's silky smooth, round cheek. He had seen green eyes, but never of this hue.

“You look like your Daddy,” she coos. “Beautiful girl…”

He rolls his eyes, weakly mumbling, “She looks like both of us…”

Evangeline ignores him. “The breast milk potion can be made with the father's hair as well,” she says to him instead. “Men have milk ducts for whatever reason, that way she doesn't have to drink that premade synthetic garbage-”

“Stop,” he begs her.

She looks up from the baby to give him a pitying look.

“Sev, I figured this might happen. Please don't fear for me.”

He wants to scream at her.

“How could you expect-”

“Severus,” she says lowly, “Listen to me. Do not let them Squib test her.”

“What?”

“You can’t let them, please, Severus, you have to trust me. She's got more magic in her little finger than we have combined. She's special, Sev. You have to keep her safe.”

He grinds his teeth and adjusts the soft pink hat on their child's head to distract himself from his irritation.

“What are you on about?” He asks tightly.

“Did you ever hear the stories about Merlin?” She asks him.

“He was a powerful, clever wizard.”

“He was a Mage, Severus, a Celestial Mage.”

He eyes her. Her pale skin sickly and tinged with an unnatural color, her eyes tired and feverish, her brow damp. He knows the fingers running through their daughter's hair are cold.

“Merlin's mother died shortly after birth,” she says quietly. “He was sensitive to her magic in the womb and there was a shift in the magical atmosphere when he was born. No one but his father knew what truly happened at the exact moment, but his birth was confusing to be certain. His father wouldn't describe it for fear of being called mad and getting his son taken away.

“Merlin was raised by his father, was a prodigy in several branches of magic early on, he needed a custom wand for no others could handle his magic. He was a prodigy and a Mage.”

She smiles at him.

“And a Slytherin.”

His hands grip the sheets of her hospital bed.

“So there's nothing to be done then?” He says through clenched teeth.

Her smile turns watery. “I’m sorry, Sev. But promise me you know that I didn't keep this from you because I want to leave you. I never wanted to leave either of you.”

His eyes burn. “You should,” he growls. “Smile. You'll soon be free of me.”

Tears stream down her cheeks. “Oh Sev,” she murmurs. “I never wanted to be.”

“I thought I was stuck with you,” he continues, though those aren't the words he means to say.

But she knows him well enough by now to translate.

“I thought I'd be stuck with you too,” she sniffs. “Make sure Rosie knows I love her?”

He almost asks her who she's talking about.

“Weren't you campaigning for ‘Serpentina’?” he questions

“A Slytherin named Serpentina?” she asks thickly, even though she's still smiling. “The daughter of the head of Slytherin being named Serpentina? We should at least make it somewhat difficult for schoolyard bullies to target her, don't you think?”

He couldn't have smiled if he wanted to.

“There has to be something we can do. A potion, a spell, something.”

She shakes her head sadly, taking her hand from Roslyn’s hair so she can lay it on his cheek and pull him nearer. Once, twice, thrice her lips claim his.

“I love you, Sev,” she whispers. “I'd have told you sooner, but I didn't think you'd believe me…”

He wanted to tell her that he didn't believe her now, but couldn't find his voice.

“And Roslyn loves you too, just as much as you love her, Sev.” Her voice cracks now, as pain and panic lace her expression. “Please, Severus don't try not to let anyone untrustworthy find out what she is until she’s old enough to protect herself.”

And suddenly everything is moving too quickly and Evangeline starts to frantically pepper Roslyn in kisses.

“Mummy loves you, sweetheart. I'm so sorry I won't be around when you understand those words, but it was you or me and I chose you. Take care of Daddy, Princess, won't you? I'm so sorry, I'm so so sorry.”

Severus manages to find his voice, shouting for Healer Chandler with his first breath. Evangeline gets more frantic by the second, repeating “Sev, take her!”, “I love you!”, and “I'm sorry!” in no particular pattern, again and again.

But the healers burst in and suddenly everything is too loud. He’s detached as he takes Roslyn from her mother's trembling arms. And he tries so hard to make his voice work because it's gone again, but Evangeline has to know that he thinks he loves her too, even though he's not even certain he knows what love is.

He never knows if she hears him or if he manages to say the words at all. Blood spills over her lips, choking her on her frantic cries and he watches, helpless and afraid as yet another woman he needs abandons him.

And then he wakes up agitated, frightened and with wet cheeks. On instinct, he cradles the small mass of weight on his chest so it doesn't fall as he shifts into an upright position. Wiping away traitorous tears, he realizes it's Roslyn and that she's a month old, not a newborn, and that they’re in his bed at Prince Manor, not St. Mungo’s. And she’s awake, watching him, even though at her age she shouldn’t be concerned for him or capable of empathy.

But then again, she wasn’t like most children her age.

He shifts her so he’s holding her under the arms and using his middle, ring, and pinky fingers on both hands to support her head, then draws up his knees to lean the rest of her little body against.

“And what about you?” He says quietly. “Will you leave me behind too? Maybe once you can move on your own you’ll run away. Or decide you’re happier living with your godmother…I’m sure Narcissa would be ecstatic.”

She blinks those green, green eyes at him, chewing her fist with a little frown.

“Or maybe it won’t happen until you get to school,” he continues. “Will that be it? You’ll decide I’m not worth your time once you’ve made lots of friends? Beg me to let you spend every summer with someone else? Or torture me further by moping around the manor every year because you’re stuck spending your holiday with me?”

He realizes he’s actually expecting some kind of response and berates himself mentally. She was a month old. Mage or not, she couldn’t communicate back yet.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” he murmurs. “Your mother didn’t make an ounce of sense, wanting my company all the time or my opinion on things…as if it mattered. As if I did.”

They watch each other in the dark while his brain works, teetering around the edges of some realization or another. Yes, Evangeline had said she loved him, and though there were days he didn’t believe she meant those words, she had never lied to him before. What bothered him was more complicated than that.

If this was what it felt like to be a parent, to create another person who is, in a sense, part of yourself, then how did his parents grow to hate him so? Would she grow older and lose significance in his mind?

The mere idea unsettled him. He couldn't _stop_ loving her if he tried.

“You matter,” he says slowly. “You’ve mattered even before you were born… though you never asked to be made in the first place…”

He frowns. _So why didn’t I matter to them?_

“Could you love me?” he whispers. “Even if I never ask you to. If I love you but never force you to think you have to love me, will you?”

Her lips release her fist with a soft ‘pop’ and she immediately strings together a series of babbles at him.

He summons a baby soft washcloth to the wipe drool from her chin and her hand before she sticks her fist back in her mouth.

“Am I a fool for thinking that meant ‘yes’?”

Silence.

He sighs and shakes his head. “Regardless, Daddy loves you…”

She babbles again, around her fist this time. And even if he’s mad for doing so, he lets himself believe she said ‘I love you too’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Belated Christmas, All~


	8. A Notty Christmas

It was made very clear in the first four months of Roslyn’s life that her father did not want to share her. Period.

He still provided any and all useful information he could gather for the Order though he had made very little progress in discovering the identity of the other spy. He had attended exactly four Death Eater meetings, one per month, during which he begrudgingly left Roslyn with Narcissa, who also watched Theodore for Theron. He was still apprenticing with Slughorn though most of his assignments were modified so he could brew from home. The majority of his work had been an independent study from the start, so very little changed in that regard.

He simply didn’t socialize unless he had to, choosing to spend his days in the manor with Roslyn and his small army of elves than with the majority of witches and wizards in his acquaintance. The only person that didn’t make him feel crowded was Theron, but perhaps that was simply because the other man was a single father as well.

No one really bothered him about his increased desire for solitude or the fact that he deliberately kept Roslyn to himself until the holidays rolled around. Albus, Minerva, and to a smaller extent, Narcissa, didn’t quite understand his increased loathing of social engagements around Yule. No, he did not want to attend any parties. No, it was not because he couldn’t - wouldn’t - find a sitter. No, it wasn’t anything personal.

But it _was_ his daughters first Christmas. Never mind that she was only four months old and couldn’t grasp the full concept of the holiday. He wanted it to be fun and not stressful for her. Given her recent increase of adversity to strangers, a Malfoy Yule Eve ball was exactly the wrong place to be for her to enjoy the day. To be honest, it was also the wrong place for little Draco to spend his holiday, but Narcissa and Lucius could suffer that on their own. He had warned them about the increase in social and separation anxiety that came with Draco and Roslyn’s age group, but naturally, they’d insisted he would have a grand ole time with family and friends.

He’d pay a pretty galleon to see the looks on their faces that evening when Draco _did not_ want anything to do with the noisy, crowded environment. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least if she Floo’d into his home shortly after eight that evening and begged him to take the fussing boy for the night so she could continue playing hostess.

 _Severus_ would be spending Christmas Eve with Roslyn, Theron Nott, and little Theodore in Prince Manor, where the elves had tastefully outdone themselves.

A gentle hint of mistletoe clung to marble halls though none of the fickle plants could be spotted anywhere. The drapes had been charmed deep blues and glistening silvers – the color scheme having been his downplayed way of making Evangeline part of the holiday. Various varieties of roses, the ones he hadn’t loathed during her pregnancy, of course, were also scattered reasonably throughout the manor. The elves had gone to town with the petals, some charmed blue, some silver. Some of the blossoms carried combinations of the two, some petals faded from one color to the other. Some petals were mostly silver with blue along the edges, some were the opposite.

Severus had never been a red and green Christmas sort of person. He preferred silver paired with green or blue. Silver and red, Lily’s favorite as he recalled, was also nice enough, he just thought the red too bright.

Besides, Roslyn couldn’t have been happier with the subtle decorations. Yesterday he had transfigured the stem of one of the blue roses with silver edges into a headband so she could wear the flower around with her if she pleased and she hadn’t stopped smiling at him since. Not that he often caught her without some level of a grin on her face anyhow, but her cavity-inducingly sweet toothless grin she made when he did the simplest of things for her was his favorite. According to the books, he was her favorite person in the world. And though that was a concept he had next to no personal experience with, it was I smile that made him believe the words to be true.

She was his favorite person in the world too. She was also the cleverest person he knew.

He had rediscovered the concept of ‘baby sign language’ in one of the many books he had on the subject of parenting and had started implementing the signs as much as possible several weeks prior. He knew she could only learn a few at a time and only after lots of repetition, but he hoped that the earlier he started it, the earlier she’d start signing back. He hadn’t expected her to do anything remotely close to signing until she was at least six months old, but as always, she surprised him.

He’d nearly missed her first attempt that morning while he was getting her dressed for the day. She’d brought her hands up to her chest and patted her onesie with the not-perfect-coordination he expected from a four month old. It took him several moments to realize she’d been asking him about the bath.

“Would you like a bath, Roslyn?” He asks her, making the sign for ‘bath’ as he said the word.

She simply blinks at him, which confused him at first since she had already started sort of answering yes/no questions. If she tried to babble back at him, it was typically a yes, but if she stayed quiet it was safe to assume she meant no. He thought harder.

“Are you trying to ask Daddy if you need a bath?”

She smiles and, likely on accident, blows a very drool-filled raspberry at him. He had no choice but to smile in return.

“Not unless you want one. Daddy was going to give you a bath before bed tonight. Would you rather have it now?”

Silence.

“Let’s get you dressed then.”

He dressed her comfortably in a dark blue onesie and light grey pants, then to her utter delight, situated the soft rose headband he'd transfigured around her head.

She had quite a bit of hair for her age. Usually, the locks were inky black like his own though occasionally she would be frightened or excited enough that the strands would change to a blonde only a shade or so lighter than Draco’s and her green eyes would turn bright azure.

After dressing, he had fed her not one, but two bottles, as she seemed to be in the middle of another growth spurt and had tried to make the signs for ‘more’ and ‘milk’. The elves had made him an exemplary omelet and two waffles, the latter of which his ever-curious little one had wanted to taste. He couldn’t give her solids yet though her first teeth would be coming in any day now, but she was already much more interested in his plate than he expected her to be. Not that he could blame her for wanting to taste syrup when she was surrounded by the smell of it.

The bulk of their afternoon was spent in a rocking chair in the library where Severus alternated between _Pride and Prejudice_ and _The Very Hungry Caterpillar_ depending upon which story Roslyn wished to hear him read while she chewed on a nice cold teething ring. She napped in his lap for several hours, having fallen asleep just after Darcy wounded Elizabeth’s pride. After her kip, the elves brought them a light lunch. Roslyn lightly fussed until he let her lick one of the pickles from his chicken sandwich. Then, promptly made a face and went back to her bottle, much to his amusement.

After lunch, they spent some time about the house preparing for guests. Severus made sure the muggle items Theron wanted to know more about were in the baby-proofed drawing room where they would be spending the evening. As well as an assortment of blankets for the children to play upon and age appropriate toys scattered about them.

A precisely six-thirty Theron stepped through the Floo in the receiving hall of Prince Manor with Theo tucked safely against his chest. Severus and Roslyn waited to greet them a polite distance from the fireplace, the latter of which was once again occupied with a cool blue teething ring.

“Evening, Sev,” greeted the older of the two wizards. “Thanks again for the invite, mate.”

“Theron,” Severus greeted in return. “No need to thank me. It’s not as if we had plans.”

Theodore’s dark eyes were peeking about from where he was huddled against his father bashfully. The boy was only a month or two older than Roslyn, though, in the first two years of life, those months made quite a difference. With Roslyn being as advanced as she was, the two were at about the same level mentally, though physically their age difference was obvious.

“Hello, Theo,” Sev greeted, with none of the usual inflection most people tended to greet children with. “Happy Christmas.”

Theodore waved shyly, then promptly switched his interests to Roslyn, who was already eyeing him curiously.

“Happy Christmas, Roslyn,” Theron says kindly. “Your headband is quite enchanting.”

Roslyn seemed to recognize the compliment, giving Theron a shy smile as she reached up to touch the petals.

“Clever girl,” the wizard murmured so only Severus would hear. “She reminds me of my sister with that smile.”

Severus gestures for Theron to follow him, leading them into the drawing room where they’d be spending the evening.

“I didn’t know you have a sister,” Severus commented casually, neither prying nor disinterested.

They deposited their children on the floor atop the thin but still soft spread of blankets and within the small sea of toys. They each took opposite ends of the comfortable sofa against the wall, giving them the ability to angle towards each other while having their conversation while simultaneously keeping their watchful eyes on their little ones.

Theron’s expression turned pensive. “Had,” he corrected gently. “I received an untraceable letter from a safety deposit box a Gringotts some months ago alerting me of her passing.”

Severus frowned. “My condolences.”

Theron nodded to signify his appreciation of the statement though Severus could tell that the man was still grieving the loss. But perhaps not with the rawness suddenly losing a loved one usually presented.

“My family adopted her when I was twenty-three,” Theron continued quietly. “She was only a few months old at the time. They never told me who her birth parents were, only that she was a pureblood, and a Nott henceforth…”

A few moments of silence passed while both fathers watched their children. Theo rolled onto his back, staring at the dimly twinkling baubles and lights floating near the ceiling as he absently chewed on an alphabet block. Roslyn was also on her back staring upwards, only cuddling her much softer Hippogriff stuffed toy instead of something more conductive to teething.

“They told me her first name, but to help prevent her discovery in case anyone went digging around the old pureblood family trees, we changed her name, though I always preferred her birth name… It was Aschere. Aschere Antecanis.”

Severus cautiously raised a brow. “Asher? Well, she avoided part of that constellation madness, at least, …though it is still quite telling of her heritage…”

Theron gave him a somewhat wry smile. “Aschere, pronounce it with a bit of French at the end – _ash cher_ \- is another name for the Dog Star, if my knowledge of Astronomy is still any good. I know not of her parents, so I cannot pinpoint where in the Black family from which she hailed. She was my Ash, regardless of her parentage. I helped raise her.”

Severus nodded in understanding.

“Come to think of it, she was your age. You probably had classes together,” Theron said after a moment of thought.

“What house was she in?” Severus asked him.

“Ravenclaw.”

A wave of anxiety makes Severus tense, and a moment later he can hear his blood pulsing his ears. There were plenty of other Ravenclaw girls who had been in his year. Surely it was a coincidence and nothing more. His paranoia was foolish.

“It just bothers me that I didn’t get to see her more after she divorced-”

“Rosier,” Severus finished weakly. “When she divorced that idiot cousin of Rosier’s three months after they married.”

Theron eyed his friend first with shock, then suspicion, until finally the information clicked together in his mind, leaving him in a sort of haze Severus himself had experienced enough to recognize.

When clarity finally seemed to dawn through that haze Theron’s eyes swiveled from Severus to his daughter. He was quiet while he watched her, eventually getting up from the sofa and cautiously making his way over to her spot on the blanket. Ever more aware of her surroundings that she seemed, Roslyn honed in on his movement long before he reached her and had rolled onto her tummy by the time he laid down beside her.

“May I hold you?” He asked her quietly, slowly and gently taking her under the arms and pulling her – and her Hippogriff – up into his arms.

She didn’t protest, instead babbling quietly at him in what he would come to learn was Roslyn’s go-to method for communicating approval. And Severus watched as Theron sat with her on the floor and took in her features, spinning an ebony curl around one finger as he kissed her cheek.

“Happy Christmas, my niece,” he said to her, his voice strained with emotion. “Here I thought I had lost everyone but my Theo...Yet here you are, Evangeline’s legacy…I could not have asked for a greater gift. And now you get to spend your first Yule with your cousin.”

And some knot of tension Severus had been holding onto lessened. He wasn’t her only family, now. If he _did_ fail in his role as a spy, someone other than Narcissa could take care of Roslyn, someone who considered her part of their family not out of a connection to him, but because Evangeline had been his family too.

The echo of the floo activating down the hall jolted them out of the moment and was quickly followed by the sound of heels...and the quiet fussing of a small child. Severus smirked and rolled his eyes.

“That’ll be Narcissa with Draco.”

Theron chuckled, pressing another kiss to Roslyn’s forehead. “With both your cousins,” he corrected himself.

And a little more tension fell away from Severus as he realized that the Malfoys, via Narcissa, were part of Roslyn’s family too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Christmas, Everyone! ;)


	9. The Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I planned to have this chapter up on 1/9/16, in honor of Sev's birthday, but I had too much going on. I've got courses at college again, but so far I'm able to juggle the workload fairly well and still have time to write.  
> My tumblr is the best place to find out more, my ask is always open, and the more you guys pester me the more likely I am to remember you guys are waiting on an update.  
> Enjoy, my lovelies.

For his twenty-first birthday, Severus got more positive acknowledgment and presents than he ever had in the years prior. The only gift he’d truly cared about was the one he’d gotten from Roslyn. One she’d given him repeatedly, even as they prepared to Floo to Malfoy Manor.

“Dada.”

He glanced down, pausing in the middle of fastening his cloak around his shoulders as he eyed her, sitting on the marble floors, cozy in a thick footed onesie to ward of any chill. A blanket - her current favorite - was in her lap, one edge wrapped snugly in a little fist and slightly darker grey than the rest from drool and being assaulted by her sore gums.

She’d stopped babbling back and forth with him shortly after Christmas, which had made him worry a great deal. If he prompted her she obliged very softly and with purpose, but she no longer freely offered up series of sounds with the uncaring enthusiasm her cousins had. She smiled, close-lipped, when she wanted to show agreement or approval and she frowned or narrowed her eyes when displeased. On the rare occasion that her displeasure was severe, she would scowl in such a way that negated any questions - not that any arose - of her father's identity. But she didn't fill his ears with endless baby chatter anymore.

He missed her voice.

Though there was some small consolation in the fact that she'd said her first actual word on his birthday. And that he was her first word. Not that he was surprised, but it still sent a thrill of pride and warmth through him.

“Yes, my Rosie?” He answered dutifully, wishing hopelessly that she'd string together a series of senseless sounds at him like he had grown so fond of her doing.

But she didn't. Instead, her green - oh so very, very green - eyes strayed to the Floo some feet away from the coat closet and entry table where he was standing. He suppressed a sigh of disappointment and shielded the rest of his negative emotions from his expression. This was a phase. She'd get out of it, surely.

“Eager to leave?” He questions.

She nods once, efficiently, unsmiling, and somewhat forcefully chewing on the cloth covered first. Her cheeks were pink, at least, which was usually a good sign. So she must not be too unhappy if she still appearing capable of switching quickly into her usual, cheerful self.

Still, he worried. She wasn't sick, but she hadn’t been acting what he'd come to expect as normal for some weeks now. Something had to be wrong.

She'd never seemed impatient with things like preparing to leave before either. Never pointed or seemed to rush him, as much as someone who was just learning to crawl and had a one-word vocabulary could rush and impress their opinion on another person, at least.

He just couldn't shake the feeling that he was overlooking something.

“I was just about to pick you up,” he says gently, finishing the clasp of his cloak at last. “Rosie, are you okay?”

She blinks at him with intense impassiveness, her eyes once again flicking to the fireplace. As if she were resigned to go to his birthday dinner and simply wanted to get it over with like he did, only he was somewhat looking forward to spending a few hours with friends. Epecially since Lucius had discovered Regulus Black’s somewhat recently lost faith in the Dark Lord and suspicions of some plot or another. But the deserter Death Eaters would be discussing that issue another night.

His crouches down and puts his palm, then his lips to her forehead. Warm, but not enough to be feverish. Her eyes seem almost desolate and he can only interpret her expression as “Why bother? It won't help.”

“Roslyn,” he says gently. “Are you hungry?”

She typically signed her needs to him as well as her wants and questions if she knew how, but perhaps if she was unwell she'd forget she could.

She shook her head slowly.

“Thirsty?”

No.

“Too hot?”

No.

“Cold?”

No.

“Tired?”

She hesitates, then gives him the tiniest of nods.

“Daddy will hold you if you'd like to have a kip while we're at Auntie Cissa’s,” he promises. “Would you like that?”

She lifts her arms, still moving slowly compared to normal, and he has his answer.

He's even gentler than usual when he lifts her and stands, settling her familiar weight against his left shoulder and tucking the blanket around her. He managed to wrap her sufficiently without interfering with the corner she was chewing on, and figures she must have slept poorly the night before. Though that didn’t explain the last few weeks.

He'd have to ask Narcissa if she'd ever heard of such sudden changes in behavior in small children that weren't caused by some illness or another.

He gently shook his head, trying to stop fretting. It was his birthday after all and for once he was looking forward to some small celebration. A handful of Floo powder later and they stepped into Malfoy Manor.

Narcissa was quick to get him coatless, settled in one of the most comfortable chairs in the largest drawing room, and in possession of an excellent cup of Earl Grey. Roslyn was still laying against him in the same position and hadn't moved except to settle against him more comfortably when he sat down. She had barely acknowledged Narcissa with a weak wave, ignored Lucius and Theron equally, and Regulus had figured she wouldn't be much nicer to a stranger if she was in a mood. So he didn't introduce himself.

“Don't suppose she'll want put down with the boys?” Theron asks from his spot on a nearby sofa. “She seems awfully discontent.”

“She is,” Severus says with a sigh. “I can't figure out what's the matter, either. I told her I'd hold her all night if she was tired and she reached for me, so I'm not going to even attempt to put her down unless she acts like she wants to be.”

“Draco’s been a bit moody lately,” chimes Lucius as he reenters the room, trailed by Regulus, and both carrying glasses of something dark and amber. “Is she teething?”

Severus nods. “She started teething before Draco, Lucius,” He reminds him.

The blond frowns. “And she's only just now acting this way.”

“So it would seem,” Severus answers, trying not to roll his eyes. “That's what makes me think whatever’s bothering her is unrelated.”

Regulus speaks up, “Mum told me a story once about how Sirius was the worst when his teeth came in because he had several come in at a time. It made him miserable, his gums were inflamed and he used to scratch at his jaw or something.”

Theron nods with a deep sense of understanding, gesturing to the nearby collection of blankets where Theo and Draco were entertaining themselves. “That's why Theo’s got all those little scratches on his chin and cheeks - they hurt and he's trying to rub them I suppose. He's been having a time with it. Wakes me up crying in pain a few times a night when it's worse than usual.”

Severus’s frown deepened. Roslyn had two teething symptoms: drooling and refusing her bottles or any solids he offered her. She didn't fuss, didn't wake him up wailing, didn't rub and claw at her cheeks. She was out of sorts, had been for a couple weeks, and it didn't seem to be caused by her teeth.

“She hasn't done any of that,” he tells them. “She's stopped ‘talking’ to me throughout the day. Today is the first time she's made any verbal sounds without prompting, and that's only because she's learned - or decided to inform me of - her first word this morning.” He pauses, frowning in thought rather than worry. “That was deliberate,” He says after a moment.

“What was?” asks Lucius.

“Saying Dada this morning, all day. She gets quiet after Christmas, then suddenly says a word? My name?”

Theron grins. “Your birthday present, perhaps?”

“I thought the same, but she's barely four months old, she can't possibly understand the concept,” he counters.

“Well, she's extremely clever, right?” Regulus asks. “Narcissa’s told me a lot. She's at about the same level as Draco and Theo, so about a month or two head for her age.”

“She is,” Severus agrees. “But they don't understand the significance of a birthday either.”

Regulus shrugs. “She's still oddly advanced for her age. Maybe she understands more than you think.”

“Even so,” Lucius adds. “This doesn't explain anything else about the poor dear. Have you taken her to a healer?”

Severus arches a brow at the same time Theron rolls his eyes and says, “She lives with one, you dolt.”

Lucius huffs in annoyance. “Yes, yes, he's certified, but he's not a specialist! He's a bloody potions apprentice!”

“I asked Madam Pomfrey to look her over when I dropped off some assignments to Slughorn last week. She's not ill,” Severus mutters, just as Narcissa enters the room.

“Apologies, I had to see to the elves and supper preparations,” She says softly, her eyes concerned. “Is something the matter with Roslyn?”

Severus’s concerns are relayed along with the speculations of the others. Narcissa is pensive by the time they're finished.

“Well, I was going to wait until after supper that way you could choose to open these at home in private if you wished, but it seems you could use your gifts now,” she murmurs, confusing him. “Dobby? The presents.”

Two boxes were dropped off on the small coffee table before him and the small elf bowed and vanished just as quickly as he'd come. Severus eyed Narcissa curiously as she moved from her perch on the arm of her husband’s chair to the seat beside Severus. Picking up one of the small neatly wrapped boxes, she hands it to him.

“Theron helped with this one,” she told him. “We each got our own, actually, since they’re so useful. Hopefully, it’ll help you figure out what’s got her out of sorts.”

Balancing the box, which held a slight weight to it that he wasn’t expecting, on his knee, he uses his free hand to start peeling away the paper. The lid lifts with ease.

Inside is a fetching, practical sort of watch. The band clearly a durable black dragon leather, the clasps and timepiece itself were glistening silver, only upon closer inspection, he realized that there were no numbers. And there were too many hands, each straight and a different color. A small card was still in the box, under where the curious trinket had sat. He traded the two out, inspecting the lines written, each line in a color matching one of the hands.

_Blue – Mood_

_Red – Location_

_Green – Physical State_

_Purple – Current Need_

He glances up at Narcissa, who’s smiling patiently, and waits for an explanation.

“It’s enchanted, obviously,” she says, still smiling. “It’s one of the newest models of parenting watches. Typically they’re only meant to last until the child is of a certain age, but-” Her eyes flick to Theron, who smirks and looks away, causing her smile to take on a mischievousness he’d never seen her with before. “- we figured with how protective you are that you might prefer to have it long term. So, it won’t stop monitoring her unless you use the counter charm on the back of that card. There’s also the charm to reinstate the monitoring, in case you don’t want to use it persistently.”

With a new sense of appreciation, he eyes the handsome trinket.

No more guessing what was ailing her.

No more games of fifty questions just to figure out whether she was hungry or tired.

“Sometimes there will be more than one hand of the same color, if such a situation arises where you need more than one word to get a grasp of what’s going on,” Narcissa continues as he – _carefully_ , as not to jostle Roslyn – fastens the watch on his right wrist and set the face against his pulse point, and almost instantly the colored hands become neat, easy to read cursive words.

In blue – _Discontent_ – on the first of two red lines – _Malfoy Manor_ – on the second – _L._ _Drawing Room_ – three green lines – _In pain – Hungry – Tired –_ and lastly, in three purple lines – _Something cold – A bottle –_ and – _Sleep_.

Severus shifted the empty box to the arm of his chair and gently settled Roslyn against his arms so he could see her face. She squinted at him, frowning with that damp edge of blanket still wrapped around her fist and being assaulted by her gums. He mentally sorts through every magical parenting spellbook he owned, none of which contained spells that did more than healed minor injuries. There wasn’t a spell for teething pain.

Yet.

“ _Extenuant dolor_ ,” he murmurs wandlessly, touching the fingertips of one hand to the space where her cheeks met her jaw.

Roslyn blinks a few times; muscles he hadn’t quite realized were so tense relaxed. She stopped chewing the blanket and he watched as her tongue explored her gums.

“Better?” He asked.

She nods, obviously confused about why her pain is suddenly gone, but wastes no time taking advantage of it.

“Dada?”

He smiles softly. Her voice sounded less strained, as well. “Yes, my dear?”

Letting go of the blanket for the first time since she’d decided to chew it after his last lackluster attempt at feeding her earlier in the evening, she uses her raisiny little fist to make the sign for milk.

“Topaz,” he says gently, the elf appearing at his side instantly. “Bring me a bottle for Roslyn. Warm, please.”

“A’course, Master,” Topaz answered obligingly, disappearing with a soft ‘pop’.

Roslyn seemed to realize her pain wasn’t returning anytime soon and grinned up at her father, who smirked in return.

“Dadadadada,” she said softly.

His eyes widened. “Rosie, Rosie, Rosie, Rosie, Rose,” he said back.

“Back to normal, I take it?” Regulus asks, startling Severus out of the Roslyn-Daddy universe he’d fallen into.

“Yes,” he says, somewhat unsteadily. “Would you like to meet a friend of Daddy’s, Roslyn?”

She had indeed wanted to meet Regulus, and to her father’s great surprise, the two got on famously.

Dinner had been flawless though he expected no less from the kitchens under the command of Madame Malfoy. Roslyn had perked up by the minute after his impromptu spell creation and had been very interested in his plate even after Topaz had returned with a bottle that she had emptied in record time. He’d appeased her by letting her taste the rich Alfredo that had been generously ladled over his pasta. Quickly reaching a point where every time he took a bite, he’d use a small stirring spoon to scoop the excess sauce for her to enjoy. Narcissa had even been so kind as to have some last minute, soft dinner rolls to go alongside their breadsticks. And after breaking one open to cool and adding a swipe of butter, Roslyn had been allowed to gnaw on that as well.

And naturally, she inherited his (denied) obsession with chocolate. Which Narcissa was aware of. So, _of course_ , there had to be a black tie mousse cake rather than cupcakes or something less extravagant.

Outwardly he complained. Thoroughly. In the privacy of his own mind, he was never quite so pleased to have made such high class, observant friends.

Roslyn’s reaction to her first taste of chocolate had been similar to his first memory of the treat as well, and her appreciative ‘Mmmmm’ drew the attention of the other adults. Namely, Narcissa “Overly Please With Herself” Malfoy.

“Chocolate is quite good, isn’t it, Rosie?” She’d asked as Severus scooped an adult sized bite for himself.

The only thing remotely close to an answer she received was Roslyn’s sound of intense protest when the generous spoonful went to his mouth instead of hers. Regulus had thrown his head back and laughed.

“She’s quite the opinionated little thing when she’s not in pain, isn’t she?” He said to no one in particular, still chuckling. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Sev, but in that regard, she reminds me of my mother.”

Narcissa glanced at Severus for permission, which he granted with a nod, before she said, “Well, Regulus, she is our cousin, after all.”

Severus focused on Roslyn, allowing Theron and Narcissa to do the honors of explaining to Regulus that Roslyn’s mother had been a long lost cousin or other of his and Narcissa’s. Regulus had only become more bewitched by Roslyn upon learning they were family, murmuring something about trading one Sirius for another.

“What?” Severus questioned, having only heard the tale end of the statement.

“I said it’s a bit ironic,” Regulus repeated. “My brother disowns me the same week I meet the legacy of long lost cousin Aschere.”

At Severus’s blank expression, Regulus continues.

“Sirius. Aschere. They’re both names for the Dog Star.”

Severus had known that Aschere was another name for the Dog Star but he hadn’t exactly acknowledged the fact that the name was connected to Sirius Black, as he did his best not to think about that tosser. His brain itched.

“It’s odd, now that you mention it…” Narcissa adds. “Your mother and father surely shared their intended name for your brother within the family so no one else would think to take it.”

Regulus shrugged. “Mother must not have minded that one of our cousins shared a star with him.”

“Antecanis,” Severus said quietly. “Her name was Aschere Antecanis.”

“The Dog Star before Canis?” Regulus mused. “Seems Mum was the one asking for permission to share a star if she was born before Sirius.”

Theron shrugged. “All I can tell you is that she was a few months old when my parents took her in. We picked her birthday and her new name. I don’t even think her birth mother told my parents her actual birthday.”

“Have you checked your copy of the family tree?” Regulus asks Narcissa.

“Several times,” She sighs. “I even did the charm to show all the cousins that aren’t part of the family proper or were from the wrong side of the sheets, so to speak,” she says carefully. “I’ve looked specifically for Roslyn and I can’t find her anywhere.”

Roslyn made another noise of approval as Severus fed her a small spoonful of dessert, interrupting the brief period of thoughtful silence the adults had fallen into.

“I’ll talk to Mum,” Regulus says after a moment. “Though I doubt she’ll be forthcoming, so maybe I'll have to try Father.”

Narcissa gives him a wry smile. “We Blacks are nothing without our secrets, Cousin.”

“Nor our mysteries,” Regulus agrees, smiling.

A quick glance at his fetching new ‘watch’ tells Severus that Roslyn is most content, slightly drowsy, and would benefit from a cuddle somewhere dimly lit. He sets her up on his shoulder again when they’ve finished their cake, patting her back gently and pressing a kiss to her hair once she’s settled. He's too focused on taking care of his own child to notice Narcissa slipping out to feed Draco or Theron summoning an elf to bring Theo a bottle and a blanket. Leaving Regulus as the other person not concerned with the wellbeing of a child.

“Under any other circumstances I would be offended that you lot had a little club of your own and hadn't invited me to be apart of it,” Regulus says teasingly.

Severus eyes him with a mildly annoyed expression. “If you'd like to have a child on the way before your age no longer has the word teen in it, I suggest you hurry up and elope,” he says, albeit with very little heat behind his words.

“Oh shut it, Sev,” the slightly younger wizard responds, “I’d love to see the look on my brother’s face when he finds out you have living proof that you lost your virginity.”

“He’d likely have a stroke,” Severus grumbles to himself.

“I would imagine he’ll find out about Roslyn eventually,” Theron muses. “I think I might be close to figuring out who the other spy is. Isn’t Dumbledore going to reveal you to the rest of his band of self-righteous Gryffindors once we’ve exposed this other person?”

Severus nods, his expression making it clear what he thought about seeing the Marauders again. “ _Unfortunately_ ,” he sighs. “Regulus, Lucius mentioned you were working on something sensitive. A weakness of the Dark Lord’s?”

Regulus makes a face. “It's dark,” he says. “And most likely it will be a life threatening adventure.”

“Perhaps Dumbledore will lend us a Gryffindor,” Theron mutters darkly, drawing smiles from the others.

“If not,” Regulus continues. “Then I’m more than capable of doing whatever needs to be done.”

A blanket of comfortable silence falls over them, interrupted only by soft noises from Theo while he finishes his bottle. Lucius tosses back the last drink of his liquor before twisting the tumbler pensively a few moments.

“How are your parents, Regulus?” He asks.

Regulus shrugs offhandedly. “On the mend. Abraxas?”

Lucius grunts quietly. “Still at St. Mungo’s. They think he'll recover, but they won't know for certain until they break his fever. Regardless of whether or not he returns home in good health, I will remain head of the family.”

“Think he'll still encourage you to follow the Dark Lord’s bidding?” Asks Theron. “He's been at Mungo’s for what - three years now? Surely he wouldn't have supported the inner circle breeding agenda.”

Lucius glares at the far wall, still clearly lost somewhere in his own musings. “I don't know,” he says after a moment. “And to be frank, I don't care. I control the family and I'll be the one to decide how I protect my son.”

Theron nods in understanding. “If you need help keeping him out of the public eye…away from Draco...”

“One of the old wings or the dungeons will suffice if his flirtation with death does not dislodge his head from his arse,” Lucius murmurs venomously. “But thank you.”

Theron shrugs, waving off his thanks. “My grandmother went mad when I was small. I still own a cottage in Bulgaria that was set up with containment and protective wards. If you need it for him, I'm happy to lend it to you.”

Severus drowns out their conversation, content with gently rubbing and patting Roslyn’s back as she lays against him.

“Mum’ll probably want to meet that one if she heals up properly,” Regulus says, gaining Severus’s attention. “Would you be amenable to that or should I discourage her if she asks?”

Severus frowns, considering the idea. Walburga Black was renown for her temper and opinionated nature. Orion, her husband, was more reserved, patient, but no less lethal. Even if Roslyn was family, he didn't feel comfortable having her near them, especially with the suspicions he had concerning Roslyn’s mother, but certainly Orion - the more level-headed half of Regulus’s parents - would ignore the fact that Roslyn’s blood status  isn't exactly pure.

“Roslyn isn't a pureblood,” Severus says slowly. “If you think that will be a problem then I'm not comfortable with the idea.”

Regulus nods in understanding. “I won't name names until I get a read on her,” he promises.

Severus thanks him, making his gentle patting of Roslyn’s back somewhat softer. She hadn't squirmed since started holding her like this, giving him the sinking suspicion that she was dozing off. Remembering his watch, he checks it carefully, as not to disturb his little one.

Asleep.

He doesn't send for an elf or take her upstairs to sleep in Draco’s crib with him when Narcissa gives him the option. Her little body was warm against his chest and her weight was oddly comforting.

When the evening comes to a close he has his elves fetch his belongings for him so he only has to worry about the Floo. Narcissa sends him home with her recipe for the mousse cake, which he is certain his elves will make for him no matter what he told them to to the contrary. Then she drops a soft kiss first to Roslyn’s cheek, then his, and bids him happy birthday once again before he departs.

It had been a ‘happy’ day, he supposed. His daughter could now address him, he had a teething charm to ease her pain, and a watch to help make parenting less of a guessing game and more efficient. Though as he crawled into bed and settled Roslyn gently beside him, surrounded in a cocoon of charms to prevent her from suffocating amongst the bedding, he recalls his previous birthday and the witch he'd spent it with.

He could still hear her reading off the instructions to prenatal potions, smell the cauldron even, as he drifted into a discontented sleep. Her smiles and quiet laughter waiting for him in slumber.


	10. Constellations

They were at an impasse, though he wasn't surprised in the least. She was _his_ child after all. How so much stubbornness fit into one tiny body, on the other hand - now _that_ was beyond his comprehension.

"Try it, Rosie," he said tiredly.

Rather than humoring him, she stared him down.

"Daddy likes it," he tried.

She blinked once, deliberately, and he resisted the urge to let his frustration show. She was too clever not to prey on his limited patience. With a look of absolute and utter cunning about her, Roslyn banged her little hands upon the tray of her highchair and pointedly shifted her gaze to _his_ breakfast.

"I know. It's unfair, isn't it? Daddy gets waffles with syrup and bacon," he said. "You may have several teeth poking through, but until you get some molars you can't have bacon, princess."

He held up the obnoxiously designed baby spoon - _Honestly_ , were such bright colors necessary? - and tried to feed her the cheerios again.

She made a face when he successfully managed to get one of the milk-soaked O's in her mouth, and went through the motions of chewing it while fully displaying her displeasure at his success. He tried in vain to feed her another bite.

"Rosie, you like Cheerios," he reminded her. "You ate plenty of them yesterday for lunch."

She broke eye contact with him to stare at the rose filled centerpiece in the middle of the table, but every few moments she would glance towards his plate before pretending to study the flowers again.

 _Salazar help me_ , he prayed, suppressing a sigh.

Begrudgingly, he set the spoon in the bowl of soggy Cheerios and reached for his fork. Roslyn made a show of ignoring him while he carefully cut a small piece of syrup-laden waffle and speared it. Even when he had it ready for her consumption, she feigned ignorance.

"Roslyn."

She blinked those pretty green eyes up at him innocently, dark lashes fluttering against creamy cheeks and all. He lifted the fork with a bland expression, and she made an appropriate sound of gleeful surprise before opening her mouth compliantly for the first time all morning.

Just yesterday she'd given him compelling evidence towards her possible future in Hufflepuff after being very sweet on little Theodore when the boy got hurt during their playdate. Now all he could think about was how Slytherin scarves and ties would complement her eyes.

"Must you be so picky?" He asked, using his free hand to take a generous drink of his coffee as he watched her chew happily, her plump cheeks and sparkling eyes pulling a smile from him.

"Dada," she said after swallowing.

"Hm?"

She made the sign for 'more' and he gave up the Cheerios campaign.

* * *

"Oh, she's gotten so big…" Minerva cooed as Severus stepped through the Floo and into the headmaster's office.

Seeing his former Transfiguration professor showing such…playful attentions to his daughter made Severus decidedly uncomfortable. It didn't help that the chairs in Albus's office needed replacing, or at the very least a fresh round of cushioning charms. But honestly, the woman had been able to take housepoints from him not so long ago, and here she was swooning over one of Roslyn's shy smiles.

"Such a pretty lass…"

Fawkes quietly warbles from his post, agreeing with Minerva.

Severus rolls his eyes, ignoring Albus's twinkling stare while gently keeping Roslyn from trying to pull his hand up and put his new signet ring in her mouth. Lucius had explained as head of the Prince family, regardless of the fact that he and Roslyn were the only living members, Severus needed certain material possessions. Lucius had also given Severus invaluable advice for sorting out his financial affairs. Now, half the royalties from the few potion recipes he held the rights to would be invested under the care of a financial assistant Lucius himself employed. He had also invested two thirds of the standing fortune, putting it on a path to quadruple by the time Roslyn turned five. Severus didn't care to make the money for himself, but he was certainly going to make sure Roslyn was well provided for and could afford her heart's desires in the event of his death before the end of the war.

Tom Riddle wouldn't see a Knut of his money, regardless of the circumstances.

"We have been unable to identify the other spy by discrete means," Albus said out of the blue from behind his desk. "Has your contact made any headway, Severus?"

"We believe he is close," Severus answered, watching Minerva transfigure a paperweight into various shapes and objects, to Roslyn's great amusement. "Give us more time."

"Do we have more time, dear boy? Tom is still planning to go after the families of the Order. Security measures need to be taken, but we can do nothing while this threat lies among us."

"My contact knows what he's doing," Severus replied coolly, letting a wiggling Roslyn slide down to the floor after briefly scanning the area for choking hazards. "The Dark Lord has made no mention of making a move towards the Order just yet. He's specifically hinted that he is still gathering intelligence on the matter and implied that there are complications very adamant about wanting big. We have time."

Albus frowned. "If you're certain…"

Severus was unwavering. "I am."

"Very well," the headmaster sighed, holding a bowl out to his guests. "Lemon drops?"

Severus declined a mere moment before one of Roslyn's quiet noises of happiness distracted him. Minerva, it seemed, had interested Roslyn enough to gain holding privileges, and was quietly singing a nursery rhyme to her single entranced audience member.

" _Did you ever see a lassie, a lassie, a lassie. Did you ever see a lassie go this way and that?_ "

Roslyn was quietly cooing in an attempt to mimic Minerva's song, warming the older witch's heart right alongside her father's.

"What a patch of light you are in these dark times, Roslyn," commented Albus fondly.

For a moment the youngest Snape stared at the Headmaster, appearing for all the world to have aged far beyond her years. The intense glance lasted only long enough to cause Severus a measure of anxiety before Roslyn was distracted by Minerva's singing once again.

He took a peak at his watch, barely managing to catch the words on the mood hands before they changed.

Annoyed.

Impatient.

Pitying.

He frowned as they shifted to _Entertained, Awed,_ and _Peaceful._ Sometimes Roslyn worried him — Not scared, because he would never allow himself to be afraid of his daughter regardless of the differences she possessed as compared to other children — but he had no way of knowing just what she knew that he didn't. Legilimency, even performed by a seasoned practitioner, wasn't intended for children and thus he never used it, but it was times like these where he dearly wished to dip into her little mind. If only to see the world from her eyes for a moment.

* * *

Severus was nervous as Regulus led him through the dreary halls of Number 12 Grimmauld Place. Apparently, it was Orion who found interest in Roslyn's predicament, not Walburga, who was apparently struggling to battle against a case of the flu. Admittedly, Severus would rather deal with Orion's rumored patience than Walburga's known temper, but his anxiety didn't waver even after he found himself seated in a dimly lit drawing room with Roslyn tucked against him.

On his left was the Black family tree, which he would have recognized even without having seen Narcissa's copy of the tapestry. His eyes quickly found Regulus and his brother's branches, frowning at them briefly before returning his attention to his young friend.

"He'll be down in just a minute," Regulus said quietly, seating himself on a sofa directly across the small coffee table from Severus. "Mum's been a bit difficult this morning...but we didn't tell her about that one's blood status. Papa guessed and didn't seem surprised in the least, to be honest."

Severus hummed in thought as his suspicions grew, though he did not voice them. "Well, regardless, I expect nothing from your family," he murmured. "My inheritance is more than enough to support us both, at any rate."

Regulus frowned. "He's been out of sorts since mum disowned Sirius..." He said. "Papa wasn't home at the time, actually. Didn't get a say in it. Can't be undone unless mum dies or revokes it...He'll be pleased to know the family is still expanding. He'll want to know her."

Severus was saved from coming up with a response by the sound of muted footsteps on stairs. He tensed but otherwise kept his expression smooth even as Roslyn buried her face against the crease between his neck and shoulder. Feeling her warm breaths against his skin and the pressure of her chest rising and falling was oddly comforting. Especially since Severus hadn't been expecting Orion to look so much like his eldest son.

Obviously, the Black patriarch was older than his first born, though he certainly looked young for his age and carried himself with more control and poise that Sirius could ever muster. He didn't look like a man who'd spent weeks in his sickbed, nor did he look like a man one would wish to cross, but if nothing else, he seemed quite curious about the situation he found himself in.

After an awkward round of tense pleasantries and introductions were made, Orion seated himself beside his son, causing Severus to realize that Regulus had more or less put himself between them. His loyalties and gratitude towards the youngest Black intensified considerably.

"D'you think she's feeling too shy for a proper hello?" Asked Regulus carefully. "Or was last time just good luck on my part?"

Severus smirked a bit, remembering Regulus' most recent visit to the manor and Roslyn's utter joy upon seeing him. It probably helped that Regulus had no shame where children were concerned and was more than happy to make a fool of himself just to cause a few giggles.

Before Severus could answer properly, Roslyn shifted and peaked at Regulus from her hiding spot.

"Yes, I'm talking about you, pretty one," Regulus said with a smile. "It's a bit strange being in an unfamiliar place, isn't it?"

Her eyes flicked to Orion briefly before she gave Regulus a small nod.

"I understand," Regulus assured her. "This is my house, though, so it's safe. And don't you worry about this bloke," he added, gesturing towards Orion, "That's _my_ daddy. He won't bother you, I promise."

Roslyn hesitated for a moment more before she sat up and, with a last flick of her eyes in Orion's direction, reached for Regulus. A brilliant smile lit up the youngest Black's features as he reached forward and plucked off her father's lap before settling her in his own.

"Hello, pretty girl," he said warmly.

Roslyn gave him a small smile and buried herself against him similarly to the way she'd been pressed against Severus, causing Regulus' grin to widen as he wrapped her in a warm, playful hug.

"Sweet girl," Orion murmured, sporting a small amused grin of his own as he watched the two a moment. "Regulus didn't share much with me concerning her mother's heritage," he said to Severus. "Is there anything I need to know to narrow my search?"

Severus hesitated, eyeing the Black patriarch wearily. "I only know her birth name. She was in my year at school, as well, if that gives you a timeframe."

Orion's expression didn't change. "You were two years ahead of Regulus in school?"

Severus nodded as Regulus chimed in with, "The same year as Sirius."

Orion's unaltered expression did little to remove Severus' suspicions. If anything, his lack of surprise strengthened them further.

"I see," Orion said thoughtfully. "She departed from this world very young indeed, then. It is a pity that life's unfairness should affect it's youngest wards...although it is clear that the little one is dutifully cared after. What's her name, if I may ask?"

"My daughter or her mother?" Severus replied.

"Both, if it suits."

Severus watch Roslyn play with Regulus' fingers as he answered. "The Notts named her Evangeline, but her adopted brother says her birth name was Aschere Antecanis. My little one is Roslyn. Roslyn Evangeline."

The change in Orion's expression that Severus had been waiting for did not absolve his anxieties in the slightest.

"Did he get to her?" The eldest Black asked quietly. "That petty fool who thinks himself a dark lord?"

Confused, Severus and Regulus shared a look, both shaking their heads. "No, he did not," Severus answered slowly. "She passed shortly after giving birth to Roslyn. Apparently she knew it was coming, but told me it was not something we could have prevented, even if she'd told me in advance..."

His voice sounded strained to his own ears, but he made no move to acknowledge it.

"Papa, what are you on about?" Regulus asked quietly, frowning at his father. "Who was she?"

Orion gave his son an apologetic, remorseful sort of glance. "It's a very long story, Regulus, one we ought not get into just now, but your brother has... _had_ a twin. A particularly frightening run in with a seer drove me to altering your mother's memory and sending your sister away. When the Notts agreed to take her in I altered their memories as well, for good measure..." He frowned at Roslyn. "If I'd kept her, she would have died by that arrogant fool's hand before her time, but if I hid her away, she was supposed to help lead to his destruction...I suppose I should have considered the prophecy more carefully...the woman's exact word were 'her blood will be his demise.' I thought it meant her heritage would protect her..."

Severus sighed heavily, watching Regulus and Roslyn as the former frowned at her.

"I've a niece?" Regulus asked. " _Sirius_ has a _niece_."

"He cannot know," Severus said quickly. "Not yet at least, and don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not exactly looking forward to having something in common with your brother."

Orion smiled wryly. "Sirius doesn't remember his sister, as they were so small when I sent her away, but there was a noticeable change in his temperament very quickly...I think he might have been a very different man if we'd been able to keep her...I never did like the way that gang of friends of his influenced him...and he never got along with his mother very well."

"I have a niece," Regulus repeated dumbly, still regarding Roslyn with a perplexed expression.

"And I a granddaughter," Orion confirmed, speaking as one would to a small child before returning his attention to Severus. "Did Aschere explain how she knew she couldn't be saved?"

Severus nodded slowly. "She did, but in the interest of Roslyn's safety, I've kept that information to myself."

Orion raised a brow slightly. "I gave up my daughter in what was clearly a futile attempt to spare her life. I take family much more seriously than my wife, Mr. Snape, and I couldn't care less about Roslyn's fraction of ' _impure_ ' blood. If there is a danger in her path, I plan to hold it off."

"What he said," Regulus murmured, finally coming out of his stupor and giving Roslyn a wide grin. "You're _definitely_ my best friend now, Rosie."

Roslyn made a delighted gurgling sound that seemed loud in the otherwise quiet room, and caused Regulus to chuckle. "Salazar, you're clever..."

"Unnaturally clever," commented Orion without looking away from Severus. "One would think she's understood every word you've said to her, Regulus, and the sweet thing can't be more than four or five months old."

The silent staring contest between Orion and Severus was cold enough to make Regulus shiver.

"Papa, please," he said. "Sev's position is precarious enough as is."

"And there's no sensible reason for a twenty year old to have the weight of the world on his shoulders," Orion replied coolly. "He could save himself an awful lot of stress with just a little bit of faith. She's a Black. She's _blood_."

"She would be hunted down and killed," Severus said. "The notes her mother left me were not concrete. There is more to this issue than even she knew."

Orion frowned and his gaze shifted to Roslyn. "Was she bitten by a werewolf?"

"No."

"It's not a malady or sickness?"

"No."

Orion inhaled slowly to restrain his rising temper. "We cannot help you keep her safe if we don't know what she needs kept safe from," he said calmly, "but if relation isn't enough for you to trust us, then I beg you visit often. Let me know my granddaughter. Let us show you that she's family."

There were several moments of near silence as Severus watched Roslyn play with Regulus. He thought about how Roslyn immediately found a friend in him once they'd been properly introduced, how happy she was to let him hold her for indefinite amounts of time when, typically, she preferred to be given back to Severus rather quickly if anyone else asked to hold her. However, she'd been sitting with Regulus during their entire conversation, even though Orion, a stranger, was not three feet from the two of them.

She trusted Regulus from the start. She _liked_ him from the start.

"Rosie," Severus said. Her reaction was immediate, and he noted Orion's impressed surprise when she turned to Severus expectantly. "Is Regulus like Theo?" She frowned at him and shook her head, as expected. "What about Draco?" Another head shake. "Cissa?"

Her brows drew together as she slowly nodded, seeming confused. He tried to give her an encouraging smile. "Perhaps a bit more like Theo's daddy then?"

She nodded eagerly at that one and he fought to keep his smile in place. "I thought so. Just checking."

Regulus and Orion were clearly awaiting an explanation, the latter more so than the former, and Severus sighed.

"Theo is Theron Nott's son," he said. "She knows Theo is her cousin, and that Draco is her cousin. She took to you so quickly —" he inclined his head towards Regulus "— that I wondered if she knew who you were before we did."

"I take it that happens often?" Orion asked. Severus appreciated his patience.

"Occasionally," Severus said. "She's…unnaturally advanced for her age, and when I realize she knows something I don't, I take it to heart. She'll understand most of what you say to her and as long as you frame things as yes or no questions, she'll respond. She knows a bit of baby sign language as well, so she'll use that when applicable. You'll get used to it."

"Yes," said Orion as Roslyn glanced between the three men and unsuccessfully tried to start chewing on Regulus' signet ring, "We will."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The entirety of this fic is officially in past tense. A few minor plot things were changed when I was making edits, but whether or not you go back and reread it all is, of course, entirely up to you.


	11. Milestones

She was already awake when his eyes opened, about a foot away from him on the bed. She'd kicked the covers off her legs at some point, leaving her in just a long-sleeved onesie and _a_ sock, as she'd tugged off her other one. Her good mood indicated that she'd slept well, and she was radiating infectious contentment, making him smile slightly as he watched her play. She'd been discovering her body recently and it seemed that her toes were her newest source of study. Tiny fingers managed to get a firm grip on her remaining sock, and she made a gurgly triumphant sound when she tugged that one off too.

"Well done," he said quietly, his voice still rough with sleep.

Roslyn startled, but not on the level that would indicate he'd truly scared her, just surprised her, and the way her sweet face brightened and morphed into a stunning smile caused his chest to stir with warmth.

"Dada!" She cooed cheerfully.

"Good morning, my Rosie."

She made another one of her happy rolling gurgles of pleasure and he chuckled as he pulled her close. "You slept well, hm? Hungry?"

She nodded, rolling onto her stomach so she could push herself forward and pressed her nose — her entire face, really — against his. He snorted softly and kissed her cheek.

"Affectionate thing," he said, and wrapped his arms around her as he lifted them both of bed.

He grabbed his wand from the nightstand and cast a silent spell to put him in casual muggle day clothes. Roslyn's didn't seem to need a diaper change yet, as she was usually quick to ask for one, and her onesie was clean enough for her to wear for now.

The elves had already set out a fresh pot of tea and an empty sippy cup, to Roslyn's delight. He made her tea first, spelled it to a drinkable temperature, and out of pure laziness, let her sit atop the table. She was right in front of him and had no chance of even getting _close_ to one of the edges without him noticing, but it still made him somewhat nervous to have her on such a high surface, even if _he_ was the one watching her.

"Should I even bother trying to get you to eat cereal?" He asked her blandly.

The steady squeak of her sucking her sippy cup paused briefly and one of her small, dark eyebrows twitched up, though it didn't stay. With practice, he was certain she'd give him a run for his galleons.

His lips twitched. "Alright then. Stubborn girl."

She blinked at him, eyebrow twitching again.

"Clever little monster," he said without heat.

She smiled around her sippy cup and fluttered her lashes a bit before she resumed sucking down her tea. He was glad he'd watered it down a touch. She would be a nightmare at nap time if he hadn't.

Salazar help him once she could talk and use those charms more effectively.

Topaz appeared with a soft pop, asking Severus what he and Roslyn would like for breakfast, and after dropping a kiss atop Roslyn's head, vanished to relay her orders to the kitchen.

Roslyn hadn't quite figured out how to laugh yet, not fully at least. Sometimes she'd give the smallest giggle, like she had for Topaz, and usually did for Severus, but usually she'd give a high, rolling trill of a gurgle if she found something really amusing. Theodore and Draco had belly laughed early, and Severus had witnessed the infectious result several times. He tried not to think on it too much, as Roslyn was very well ahead for her age in most aspects, but it would be nice, he thought, to hear her laugh.

Topaz returned with Severus' plate and a small bowl of bite sized bits of waffle for Roslyn. She fussed at him when he tried to feed her, making him sigh as he handed over her (ostentatious) fork. This had been a battle for the last few days and given that it always ended the same way, he didn't fight it. He wished, sometimes at least, that she _wasn't_ quite so clever, that way she wouldn't get so frustrated when she couldn't do things...like use a fork with the same efficiency he did.

"Roslyn," he said gently when her irritation started to show. "You, my dear, aren't even six months old. Draco and Theo can use a fork as well as you, and they're older."

She frowned at him, then glowered at the fork in her hand before glancing at the (not-ridiculous) adult-sized fork in his.

"I have had far more practice with utensils, Roslyn," he said firmly, raising a brow at her. "Several years of practice, in fact."

She glared down at her fork again while he waited patiently for her to begrudgingly pass it to him so he could help her eat. He hadn't expected her lips to quiver or her eyes to tear up.

Internalizing a sigh, he pried the fork out of her hand and set her bowl aside so he could lift her off the table and settle her in his lap. She promptly hid her face in his neck with a frustrated whimper.

"Roslyn," he said gently. "My clever one, if you weren't able to do something Daddy thought you ought to be able to do, I would be sure to teach you. Just because you cannot do it now does not mean you won't learn as you grow." A stubborn grunt was her only response. "Come now, if you could do everything by yourself, what would I do all day?"

She shifted, peaking at him with one eye while keeping the rest of her face hidden against his shirt. He suppressed an amused snort.

"It's my job to take care of you. I can't exactly do that if you're taking care of yourself, can I?"

Her frown deepened, and he tried to ignore how cute the expression was given the circumstances. She really did understand too much for her age, but it wasn't anything they could change, not that he cared to. He just had to help her learn to be patient with herself...not that he was qualified to teach anyone how to have patience in any capacity.

She sat up again, her tiny hands pressed against his chest while he held her around her torso, steadying her. He waiting to see what she would do. Sometimes when she was thoughtful, she'd figure out how to communicate with him, but usually it was a bit of a lost cause. She simply didn't have the vocabulary and motor skills to talk on his level.

Roslyn seemed to realize this, not for the first time, because aside from a few soft babbles, she deflated into a resigned sort of complacency. His chest ached uncomfortably.

"As much as you hate to be sticky," he began, gaining his morose infant's attention once again, "I _know_ you're capable of eating with your hands."

She eyed her bowl of waffle bits with trepidation.

"I'll clean you up the moment you're finished," he swore, setting her back up on the table.

After he rolled up her sleeves a bit, she hesitantly pinched pieces of food in her fingers and brought them to her mouth, content with the little bit of independence she garnered. She was very offended by the stickiness of the syrup however, but with a quick, gentle Scourgify, she was set back to rights.

Severus eyed her as he took a long sip of his tea, her dark emerald eyes glinting at his as she picked her sippy cup up again, and proceeded to mimic his stare.

He almost choked, sputtering out a surprised bark of laughter, and it took him a moment to realize that _Roslyn_ was letting out bright laughter of her own.

 _Proper,_ bubbly, infectious laughter.

"Find that funny did you?" He asked, gently poking her ribs.

She laughed harder, swaying enough from the force that he reached out a hand to steady her even as he found himself unable to _stop_ laughing right alongside her.

"Dada," she managed to say a few moments later, making it sound like a playful admonishment even though her twinkling eyes told another story.

He chuckled and stood, lifting her up off the table as she pressed her face into his shirt. His lips found the downy soft, inky hair atop her head.

It was mornings like these where, for a little while, he could forget about the world outside Prince Manor and, if only for a moment, the mark burned into his arm.

 

There were few things Severus preferred to do the muggle way. Magic was typically more convenient for errands and shopping, but recently he'd felt driven to do something without magic.

It was likely not a coincidence that each instance where he found himself resorting to muggle methods directly correlated to a bonding experience with Roslyn. And Roslyn seemed to enjoy their little outings so much that he kept looking for reasons yo have them.

So, after conferring with his elves to avoid offending the notorious grudge-wielding creatures, Severus and Roslyn floo'd to Spinner's End. There was a grocery store he'd sometimes accompanied his mother to as a child and he knew the walk to be short.

Still, he'd put Roslyn in one of her thickest footed onesies and a wool beanie made from the finest and softest bulky yarn Narcissa Malfoy could find. Each time Roslyn wore it he got the enjoy the mental image of Cissa taking the time to learn _knitting_ of all things, but Roslyn was so enamored with all her little gifts that he couldn't bring himself to ask the witch to show restraint.

It helped that Roslyn's was so obviously pleased with her growing collection of head bands and ear warmers. Especially since Narcissa had branched out to include crochet in her new hobby, meaning Roslyn's accessories now featured sewed on snowflakes and roses.

He cast a quick silent set of glamours over Roslyn just in case something startled her enough for her hair and eyes to change color before they left Spinner's End. The walk to the grocery store took less than ten minutes, which he spent responding to Roslyn's soft coos and babbles. Lately she'd sometimes been able to convey some of her feelings to him, just not verbally. He assumed she was just influencing the magic in his parenting watch, because without looking at it he would know what the emotion hand said or the need hand. It was…certainly convenient for when his arms were full, usually with Roslyn, and he couldn't easily look at his watch, but the level of intent behind her displays of magic was…startling. Amazing, surely, and it made him more than proud of the clever little monster, but he worried she might get too comfortable with such displays in the future.

At least for now her magical displays weren't visual in nature.

Roslyn let out an excited trill from the back of her throat as they passed through the automatic doors, drawing an amused smirk from her father as he selected a cart. A silent, wandless scrougify was cast on every surface within reach before he gently put first Roslyn's blankets, then her, in the front of the cart.

She kicked her feet and blew quiet raspberries when he started to push the cart, pulling a chuckle from him.

"Enjoying yourself?" He asked her.

Another trilling giggle was his answer and he smiled as he guided them towards the only sane region of the store to begin their trip – The cereal and tea aisle.

He ended up getting a box of strawberry oatmeal in the hope that Roslyn would like it better than Cheerios. He got more Earl Grey and variety pack of fruity herbal teas for Roslyn to try, smirking after he handed her the box and she made soft noises of awed appreciation at the colorful sketches on the packaging.

Severus had been debating the validity of several branches of muggle science and medicine with Narcissa and Theron when they got together for 'playdates,' causing him to pause at the snack pack juices and milks in the next aisle. Whether they wanted to believe him or not, cow's milk was not _actually_ meant to be ingested by humans, meaning it was an unnecessary strain on their children's sensitive digestive systems to give them large amounts of standard dairy products. How much gloating could he get away with, he wondered, if he could get Roslyn to try vanilla and chocolate almond milk and see if her behavior changed enough to make his point.

Enough to warrant investing in the somewhat overpriced single serving cartons, probably.

Roslyn made the sign for milk when he grabbed a pack of each flavor from the shelves and he kissed her hair. "Yes, my clever little monster. Those are milk. Well done."

She trilled a raspberry at him in, what he assumed, was pride for her astuteness.

They continued through the store at a leisurely pace, allowing Severus to point out familiar items to Roslyn and introduce her to new ones. A moment of weakness led to Oreo's and cookies n' cream ice cream finding their way into the cart as well. Judging by the steadfastness of Roslyn's curious gaze trained upon the package of cookies, he knew he'd have to share them with her. He'd dip them in vanilla almond milk to soften them enough for her to enjoy as well.

He needed more protein items for her though. She'd been rebelling against purees for almost as long as she'd been eating solids and she just didn't have enough teeth to safely eat tough meats. He could get her to try eggs, perhaps, but he wasn't letting her anywhere near peanut butter until she could communicate _much_ more effectively with him than she could now, in the event that she had an allergy.

Eggs were good, but she'd tire of them quickly. Bacon she ate with no protest — go figure — but it wasn't something he let her eat a lot of and wasn't a sufficient source for her dietary needs. She hardly ate many vegetables, not that he could blame her. He didn't like them by themselves either. Perhaps he'd ask the elves to make a pot roast this week? She'd probably eat carrots and potatoes then, and if the roast was tender he could feed her small bites of it…

Severus came up with a few other meal ideas to talk to Topaz about, all of which he knew made him enjoy vegetables and provided a decent balance of food groups, as their shopping excursion came to an end. For now, he had enough things for Roslyn to snack on over the next several days, which was all he needed to be content with their trip.

The smile Roslyn graced him with when he picked her up after discretely casting weightlessness charms on their groceries, however, solidified his plan to make similar outings a common occurrence for him and his little one.

* * *

Severus shifted slightly while being careful not jostle Roslyn, who was laying against his chest, asleep. Theron and Narcissa were across from him, taking up each side of his couch in the main drawing room at Prince Manor. Little Theodore was quietly sitting with his back against Theron's chest with a teething ring, fighting sleep even though every time he blinked it seemed to get more difficult for him to open his eyes again while Draco was hidden under a thin blanket in Narcissa's arms. Judging y the slight frown Narcissa's lips made every time she glanced down at him, Severus could only assume he had, to his mother's annoyance, continued his recent (much complained about) trend of being too stubborn to stop feeding long after he'd fallen asleep. While he empathized with Narcissa, Severus couldn't help but find the situation humorous. Theron felt the same apparently, because he caught one of her frowns and quietly asked her if Draco took after his father more than she'd prefer.

Only the presence of his sleeping child kept Severus from laughing _loudly_ at the indignant flush that rose to Narcissa's cheeks. "So crass," she muttered. "Don't be a prat, Theron. Theodore's bottle fed, you wouldn't understand."

"I'm teasing," Theron promised. "Though that's more of an insult to your husband, insinuating that he has the self control of an infant."

Severus snorted softly. "It's excusable behavior for a breastfed child to have an emotional and physical attachment to his mother that intimately. What's Malfoy's excuse?"

Narcissa studied her nails briefly, seeming to ignore the other two. "Good question, but I have a better one." After successfully regaining their attention, she continued, "Why didn't Orion keep tabs on Aschere? I'd have someone shadowing Draco constantly if I had to hide him away for his own protection. Even once he was school aged and after he graduated. Why was she ever out of his sight?"

Severus sighed quietly. "The Seer told them no contact. He wasn't going to risk semantics and get her killed."

"And Sirius doesn't know?" Asked Theron.

Severus shook his head. "Nor may he until the other spy is disposed of."

With a nod, Theron said, "Everytime I think I'm getting closer I hit a brick wall. I'll let you know when that starts to change. The Dark Lord has carefully Obliviated people who have interacted with the other informant, but he's arrogant. He'll get lazy and sloppy eventually."

"I'm in no rush to start joining Order meetings," Severus said dryly. "And the less people who know Roslyn's true lineage, the better."

Narcissa and Theron agreed, switching the conversation to less stressful topics while the children continued their nap.

* * *

Regulus and Severus both tensed, gaining Roslyn and Orion's attention even though neither made a sound.

"Go," Orion said sharply. "If Roslyn gets anxious being here without you I'll floo to Malfoy Manor and stay with her there, Severus."

Though he didn't like the idea of Roslyn staying with Orion without him, Severus knew she'd gotten very comfortable with both Black's in the last few weeks, limiting his displeasure to a resigned frown. He stood, crouched beside Roslyn where she sat on the drawing room floor with her grandfather, and kissed her cheek.

"Daddy will be back in a while," he told her. "Be good for your Poppy, alright?"

Roslyn whined and shifted onto her knees to wrap her arms around his neck. Her attempts to tug him beside her and keep him there made his chest ache. He kissed her cheek again and hugged her back.

"I love you," he said quietly. "I'll be back soon, I promise."

Her lip was quivering when he gently pulled her arms away, but she let him go, thankfully not crying, but her lips were drawn into a firm, heartbreaking pout as he stood up again. He and Regulus apparated away before he could see the tears fill Roslyn's eyes, and she turned her pitiful gaze to her grandfather.

"Mine," she said softly.

Orion sighed and pulled her up into his lap for a cuddle. "They both are, sweet girl. Please don't fret. They'll be back before you know it."

He was wrong. Roslyn had long since fallen asleep for the evening when Severus appeared half dragging Regulus to the couch. Orion recognized the effects of the Cruciatus in his son instantly, causing his grip on Roslyn's peacefully slumbing form to tighten protectively as he cursed Tom Riddle a thousand times over in his head.

"He didn't get the worst of it," Severus said quietly, his voice sounding off. "He did get blasted across the room first though. Took the wind out of him. He might have a slight concussion as well."

"I'll take care of him," said Orion. "Trade."

Severus took Roslyn's sleeping form with shaking hands and tucked her against his chest in a way Orion had only seen one other time, when Roslyn had been trying to stand upright with the help of a side table. She had stumbled, panicked, and fallen backwards onto the floor. She'd had a slight knot on her head from hitting the floor, quickly remedied by her father's wand, and had been otherwise unharmed, but frightened. Just like Severus had been.

"I think between the lot of us it's safe to say she's perfectly well protected," Orion said soothingly. "She was very anxious for your return, but played until she got tired. She understands more about the situation than I'd realized."

Severus gave him a tired, curious stare that prompted Orion to continue. "She said 'Mine' right after you two apparated, the exact same way her uncles would say it when they didn't want to share something." He shrugged. "Don't punish yourself for leaving when she didn't want you to. I think she knows you don't have a choice."

Discomfort prevented Severus from saying anything except, "Thank you for watching her."

Orion waved him off. "Don't thank me for spending time with my family, Severus. Run along. It's late. I imagine Regulus will drop by to see that one once he's well, assuming you don't bring her over again around that time."

Severus neither affirmed nor denied the idea before vanishing into the floo, but Orion knew that he was starting to realize Orion loved Roslyn just as much as he did.

The boy just needed more time to adjust.

After vanishing Regulus' Death Eater robes and levitating him up to bed, Orion allowed himself a bittersweet smile. Had Aschere grown out of her similarly distrusting temperament, he wondered, or had she simply seen a kindred spirit in Severus?

Did Severus know just how much he'd had in common with Roslyn's mother? Perhaps Orion would have the pleasure of watching the realization hit him as Roslyn grew. It would be an amusing situation, he was certain.

* * *

Roslyn was sitting between Theo and Draco, frowning as they fussed at each other and licking icing from her fingers. Boys were strange. Draco and Theo weren't always, but sometimes they'd yell like they could actually talk and she wasn't quite sure they realized that they couldn't understand each other. Their special 'play date' was no exception.

Today was a happy day apparently. At least, that's how Daddy, Uncle Theron, Auntie Cissa, and Uncle Lulu were acting. They were having a party for Theo, a _birthday_ party, Daddy had said. She wasn't quite sure what it meant, but Daddy said it was celebrating the day Theo was born, which almost made sense.

Did Theo remember being born? She'd have to ask Daddy when she could figure out how to say more words. Not being able to say lots of words was frustrating. She _knew_ lots of words, but there were so many _sounds_ and she couldn't make very many of them. Daddy liked it when she practiced the sounds she knew though, even if he didn't always understand what she wanted to say.

Theo and Draco kept shouting 'Mine!' at each other and Roslyn continued to frown. Her cake was all gone except for the crumbs too small for her to pick up. Theo and Draco still had cake. She wanted more cake.

She patted each both with sticky hands. Yucky.

They both turned to her and made sounds in much happier tones, though they glared at one another. Honestly. She couldn't exactly talk to or understand them either, but they still tried.

Slowly, as not to upset Theo by simply snatching it, which she had been informed recently was not a polite thing to do, Roslyn reached for his half full bowl of decimated cake and icing. She made her hands say 'all done,' unsure if Theo knew how to talk with his hands, but assumed that Theo's lack of protest meant she could do with his cake as she pleased. She repeated the process with Draco, who frowned at her before he grabbed another fistful of mostly-icing. She watched him before she pulled his bowl towards her lap, but he seemed satisfied with his loot-coated hand and didn't seem upset by her thievery.

She had lots of cake now.

The boys resumed making angry noises at each other, though she wasn't sure why, and Roslyn enjoyed their leftovers in silence. Occasionally, and purely out of a bored sort of curiosity, she'd glance over at the grownups. Daddy was smile-laughing like Uncle Theron and Uncle Lulu, but Auntie Cissa looked worried. When Roslyn got tired of watching the boys a second time, another person was sitting beside Daddy and her quickly depleting supply of cake was momentarily forgotten.

"Weg-gus!" She cried, as she quickly crawled between the boys towards the grownups, hurting her knees slightly in the process.

"Rosie," Uncle Regulus yelled back, making her smile. He was silly, and picked her up gently before pulling her into a warm hug. "How's my favorite niece?"

She offered him the smear of icing on her wrist as an answer, which he licked off. Laughing at him, she pointed to her bowls of cake and tried to convey that she was enjoying herself.

"That's quite a lot of cake for you, baby girl," he said, his voice as playful as his smile. "Is there enough for Uncle Reggie to have a bite or two?"

She nodded with a smile for emphasis, pleased when Reggie took her back to where she'd been sitting on the floor. This time she got to sit in his lap, which kept her pleasantly warm and comfortable.

It took much less cake than she'd expected to make her full, and Regulus polished off her left overs in two bites. Daddy rolled one of her bottles across the floor, which Regulus uncapped for her. The milk made the leftover icing in her mouth seem too sweet and she was glad to sip long enough for her mouth to be clean.

By then Theo and Draco had stopped yelling at each other, instead playing with toys while lying next to one another on the rug, and the milk had added to the warmth of being held by her uncle. Roslyn's eyes grew heavy.

She was dozing when soft fingers brushed over her head, almost too gentle to be noticed. She blinked her eyes open a little wider.

 _Mumma_.

If Roslyn hadn't been so tired, she'd crawl to sit in Mummy's lap instead of Regulus'.

"Shh, My Rosie," she said quietly. "I'm just checking on you."

The only sound Roslyn could make without exerting effort by moving her bottle was a whimper, which drew both Regulus and Daddy's attention to her. They didn't see Mum, not that they ever had before.

"Rosie?" Regulus said quietly. "Honey?"

She blinked at Mummy, who leaned in to kiss her cheek. Roslyn tried to place how she smelled, sluggishly remembering that the scent was similar to when the elves made biscuits at home. _Mummy_ smelled like home.

"I'll come see you again soon, baby," Mum promised.

And then she was gone.

Roslyn whimpered again. She didn't want Mum to go and she hadn't had enough time to say so.

Regulus standing up startled her slightly, if only because she hadn't expected him to, and she felt him kiss her other cheek. The next thing she knew, she was cold and cuddling Daddy.

"What's the matter, my little one?" He asked quietly.

She didn't know the hand word or the sounds for Mommy, so instead of trying to answer she just pressed her face into his neck where it was warm. Daddy smelled like home too.

Roslyn hardly noticed when he pried the bottle from her mouth and hands, but let out a quiet sigh when she felt him wrap her favorite blanket around her.

Daddy always knew what she wanted, even when she couldn't say it or didn't know it herself.


	12. April 2001

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [Unbeta'd, any and all errors are, naturally, faults of mine.]

Getting Roslyn used to sleeping in a crib had _seemed_ like a good idea at first. Narcissa and Theron had agreed with Severus when he told them his plan. He didn't want to wait until she was older, knowing how stubborn she was already, or, more importantly, let her get in the habit of being dependent on him just because _he_ wanted her near at night. Since Theodore and Draco both slept in their cribs in separate rooms from their parents, Severus was certain Roslyn was equally capable of doing so.

She'd fought him, as expected, and nearly worn him down with the tantrum that had ensued. Theron had warned him about that, since Theo hadn't always slept in his crib unlike Draco, and promised that Roslyn would get used to it. Eventually.

Roslyn's trial night in her crib had been absolute hell for Severus. It had taken nearly three hours for Roslyn to exhaust herself enough to fall asleep, and Severus had sat in the rocking chair in her scarcely used nursery for more of that time than he would have liked. He'd started out strong, following the bedtime routine he planned to continue implementing: Bath, Bottle, quiet music while he rocked her for fifteen minutes, then he'd lay her in her crib and tell her goodnight before 'leaving the room,' where he'd walk across the hall to his room and sit by the fire.

Unfortunately, Roslyn's typically easygoing temperament did not extend to crib training, like Theodore's had for Theron. By the fourth time he'd come gently lay her back down and tell her goodnight again, she'd escalated from fussing to screaming, and no amount of back rubbing or repeat steps of the routine made her stop. Since her verbal vocabulary really only consisted of names, she'd screamed 'Dada' until he feared she'd damage her voice. He'd rocked her, rubbed her back, assured her he was still there, and everything else he could think of except caving until she'd exhausted both of them. When she'd finally fallen asleep with his hand trapped in a death grip so he couldn't pull it away from her cheek, he had stayed bent over her crib until her grip loosened enough for him to slip away without waking her.

He'd fallen asleep questioning his worth as a father and reweighing the pros and cons of Roslyn sleeping on her own. Twice he was jerked awake by a nightmare where she'd never stopped screaming and was only able to fall back asleep after quietly assuring himself that all was well in the other room.

The third time he woke up, Topaz had gently shaken him awake and the screaming he heard wasn't imaginary. Topaz's assurances that Roslyn wasn't hurt, merely inconsolable, had barely registered by the time he'd thrown himself out of bed and sprinted into the nursery.

Any hope he'd had that she hadn't damaged her voice the night before was gone. She hardly sounded like herself at all and it took a moment for him to realize what she was saying.

_Mumma. Mumma. Mumma._

Roslyn was hardly paying him any attention, too busy crying and reaching towards her left where the rocking chair was. Too stunned to think of anything else to do, Severus asked Topaz to fetch his wand from his bedside table. Roslyn started to choke on phlegm and tears just as Topaz popped back with it, and he cast three spells in quick succession to clear her airways and clean her face.

"Roslyn, you have to calm down," he said, noticing the tremor in his voice. He tried to pick her up, but she wouldn't release her hold on the crib railing enough for him to get a proper grip under her arms. "Come here," he said gently. "Daddy's here, let me hold you."

"Da-da," she said, her voice rough and broken even at a more normal volume. Her breathing was still uneven, wracking her tiny frame with sobs that might have knocked her down if it weren't for how tightly she gripped the railing. He cursed under his breath. "Dada, M-Mumma."

She coughed again and he winced at the sound, but let her catch her breath on her own since she didn't choke again. He rubbed her back soothingly as he waited for her to release the railing, and tried to come up with a logical excuse for why she'd be able to say a word he hadn't taught her. An excuse for why she'd been reaching for nothing.

"Rosie," he said quietly. "Let go so Daddy can pick you up."

She sniffled a few times, watching his wearily before she reached for him. He lifted her out of the crib with ease and held her tightly. Her hands fisted into his nightshirt at his ribs and he kissed her hair, a reflex they both found comforting.

"I have you," he murmured. "Daddy's here. You're alright."

"M-mum-ma," she said, her voice making him wince again and gently shush her.

"You've hurt your voice," he said. "Can you whisper if you need to talk to Daddy today? At least until I find a way to heal your throat?"

He felt her nod against him and her barely audible, "Dada," afterward.

"I've got you," he repeated, slowly heading towards the door.

Topaz had parked herself in the hall and was anxiously tugging at the hem of her uniform. Severus thanked her for waking him and assured her that Roslyn would be fine before they made their way downstairs. Topaz vanished with a pop, presumably to the kitchens, while Severus went to the main sitting room.

He'd sit with Roslyn until she calmed down enough to eat breakfast and try not to lose his wits until after she took her morning nap.

* * *

She was upset with him for making her sleep alone.

It was clear in the distrustful, anxious glances she'd thrown him every time he held his arms out to pick her up. It was clear in the way she'd grab fistfuls of his shirt when she'd finally consent to being held. It was clear in the way she'd squirm and fuss if they went anywhere near the bedrooms, the way she had squirmed until he feared he'd drop her when he had to head that way so they could get ready for bed. And when he set her down so she could move on her own, it was in the dark look she gave him before crawling the rest of the way down the hall and very pointedly going into _his_ bedroom.

He sighed, chest aching with guilt as the nagging voice in the back of his head reminded him once again how horrible of a father he was. How much better off Roslyn would be if he had died instead of Evangeline. Any sense of competence he'd previously felt in regards to taking care of Roslyn had vanished entirely.

After taking his time giving Roslyn a bath, he swaddled her in one of her favorite fuzzy towels, and made the mistake of heading towards her bedroom without warning. He hissed when she grabbed a fistful of his hair at the nape of his neck and tugged.

She let go before he could finish balancing her weight to free one of his hands, which he'd intended to use to pry her hand away, and he sighed heavily as he understood. She'd done it to get his attention.

The way she was hiding half of her face against his shoulder and her guilty expression solidified his assumption and sent another stab of guilt through him.

"I know you're unhappy with me," he said quietly. "But let me get you dressed, please? Once you're warm and dry we'll talk about your crib."

She didn't pull his hair again, thankfully, and he tried to stifle his own confused awe at how much she understood, especially given the fact that she could communicate so little. Once he'd successfully picked out her pajamas, he went back to his bedroom and laid her on the bed to finish drying her. A quick flick of his wand switched the CD player on and let Tori Amos soothe his nerves, if only slightly.

Roslyn let him dress her without a fight. As soon as he'd zipped her footed onesie, however, she wiggled out of his grip and crawled to the other side of the bed, away from him.

"Rosie…little one," he said, his voice breaking. "Daddy isn't making you sleep in the other room tonight."

Roslyn frowned, but moved no closer. "Da?"

"You'll sleep here, like you always do," he swore. "Because you don't want to sleep alone yet, do you?"

She shook her head with a vehemence that might have been amusing under different circumstances.

"Because you want to be near Daddy, yes?"

She nodded and hesitated a moment before babbling a string of nonsense sentences at him, seeming to understand, even while she spoke, that her efforts were futile.

"Well Daddy wants you nearby as well, so there's no point in making us both unhappy."

She came back over to him, but her obvious hesitation obliterated any relief he might have felt and internally he started to panic. Had he underestimated how much she understood once again and damaged her trust in him? He didn't even know if the concept of betrayal was something she could comprehend yet.

Deciding it was best to follow her lead, lest he risk ruining the one relationship with another person that he truth cared to keep intact, he stayed put and watched to see what she would do. For a few moments she sat before him, blinking as one hand toyed with a covered foot and nibbling her fingers on the other. She babbled at him briefly, frowned, and put down the hand she'd been teething on.

"I'm listing," he assured her. "Even when I don't understand I'm listing, Rosie. Keep trying."

"Dada?" She said softly, seeming to hesitate once again.

He crouched beside the bed, putting them at the same level and making it so Roslyn didn't have to crane her neck. "Yes, my little one?"

She leaned forward slowly, holding his gaze the entire time, as she reached out and lightly touched her hand to the spot where she'd pulled his hair. She sat back very quickly, as if she were afraid he'd think she'd meant to do it again and would react unkindly, before making several soft, whimper-like sounds at him.

Not believing his own deductions, he glanced at his watch to confirm his suspicions.

_Remorse_

_Worry_

_Shame_

_Longing_

"Rosie…" he murmured, glancing back up to find her lip quivering and her eyes too bright.

She moved before he could think of a way to properly reassure her that he wasn't hurt or upset with her, quickly crawling to the top of the bed and burying her face under the blankets.

He resisted a humorless laugh. At least she did a few age appropriate things he understood, covering her face when embarrassed or ashamed being the most noteworthy action of the hour.

"Roslyn," he sighed, standing and lifting his edge of the cover enough to keep her from suffocating without stealing her privacy. "Daddy's not hurt anymore and you're not in trouble. I know you didn't do it to be unkind."

Her head lifted just enough for her to peak at him and he laid a hand on the mattress in invitation. "Daddy's sorry too, you know. For making you cry last night about sleeping in your crib. I'm very upset about it, in fact. I should have realized my mistake when you started getting overly upset and I didn't…" He paused, frowning. "Do you think I don't _want_ you to sleep here with me anymore?" He asked her hesitantly.

She made the smallest of nods.

"That's not true," he said. "I like having you nearby. I just thought you might sleep better if you weren't with me, like Theo and Draco do."

She shook her head with significantly more force than she'd used to nod, pulling a smile from him.

"You don't think you'd sleep better, hm? Well, I know I certainly didn't, so no more crib for now. You can sleep in your own room when you're older."

Feeling lazy and drained from the events of the last twenty-four hours, Severus spelled himself into pajama pants and a t-shirt, glad he'd done the rest of his nightly rituals while Roslyn had played with a few toys in the bath. But one last thought was still nagging at him, even as Roslyn shuffled over so he could climb in beside her. He pulled her onto his chest as he tugged the blankets over both of them, smiling as she nuzzled his collarbone. He propped his head up with one hand and used the other to rub Roslyn's back.

"Rosie, do you remember when Daddy got you this morning?" He asked her quietly.

She nodded, but was too distracted by trying to pinch a loose thread on his shirt to look up.

"Why were you so upset?"

His question earned her attention and she glanced up, but didn't answer.

He frowned slightly. "You were crying and screaming. What made you sad?"

If his suspicious nature wasn't running haywire, he might not have thought anything of Roslyn's attention shifting towards the fire suddenly, but now, he had to swallow a lump in his throat.

"Rosie?" He said gently.

She glanced at him, then the fire again, before her eyes stayed on his. "Mumma," she said quietly.

There may as well have been a vice squeezing his ribs with the shock of pain that went through his chest.

"Do you know what that word means?" He asked her quietly. She nodded slowly. "How?"

Her gaze traveled back over the small sitting space by the fire and he tried to keep his breathing steady, even as Roslyn started babbling to empty air. He caught 'Dada' several times, and tried unsuccessfully to decipher what he believed were likely sentences full of words she couldn't properly pronounce. She paused once, her brows drawing together as she listened to something he clearly couldn't hear, and turned to him with a frown.

He swallowed again. "Who are you talking to, Rosie?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Mumma," she answered softly, pointing towards the fire with one hand.

He inhaled slowly, trying to keep his sanity. "Mum's here, is she?" He asked, playing along until Roslyn gave him a reason not to. "Can Mum hear me?"

Roslyn nodded.

"Then Mum needs to prove to _me_ that she's here," he said, ignoring the slight tremor in his voice. "I need to know she's _herself_ ." And that some random... _entity_ wasn't haunting his daughter.

Roslyn frowned and cooed softly at him, but he didn't even have a chance to glance at his watch to find out what was upsetting her before the CD player cut out. It started up again almost instantly, only it was playing a different song, and he knew it wasn't one from the album that was currently in the machine. He recognized it instantly as another Tori track, one that Evangeline had listened to on a near-daily basis while she'd been pregnant with Roslyn.

A thick journal thumped as it hit the side table near his chair by the fire, making both Severus and Roslyn jump. He recognized the runes carved into the face of the leather. The journal was, or had been, in Evangeline's study along with the rest of the mage-related research she'd kept hidden from him. The journal opened and flipped to a specific page before it stilled again.

Severus swallowed his anxiety and pulled his daughter more securely into his arms, both for comfort and because he still didn't trust whatever was in the room with them, as he stood and walked over to the side table. Balancing Roslyn in one arm, he picked up the journal and returned to the edge of his bed before he started reading.

Cornflake Girl ended and started over again several times as he absorbed the words. Some of it he understood perfectly — _Merlin told me about the Powers, how he had met their personifications. He learned about the instruments of Fate and Destiny, and Death's 'chosen few'. He learned of Time's role and how he found the other Powers, taking them forward and backward through himself as needed, making their existences seem eternal to 'linearly-bound beings'. In truth, they'd been mortal like Merlin and I, only Merlin claims there were even more powerful than he. They told him he's a mage, a celestial, whatever that means. They were all celestial mages once, the Powers, but that there were other classes within that. Apparently Death was Necromantic, Fate Chaotic, and Destiny Cataclysmic. I hardly understood it all, but it seemed to make sense to my son, and he seemed, for the first time, content with his uniqueness. I dared not ask for more than that. —_ But there were other passages that Severus wasn't quite sure what to make of. Passages that weren't translations from Merlin's father's journals, but notes and transcriptions in Evangeline's handwriting.

_My mother acted as a shield for me when I was small. It was a gift Death granted her, his display of gratitude towards the mother of his newest soldier, that could only be accepted because she didn't not regret her choice to sacrifice her life for my own. I was neither stalked nor haunted by other spirits, unless my mother could be counted as such. And even then I only ever remember being upset at her for leaving. I so dearly wished she would stay, but she couldn't. She drew on my magic to become visible and move things, something she did sparingly, lest she siphon too much. Not that it made much of a difference, in the end. I was discovered and killed before my sixteenth summer. Death said that my countrymen, my fellow wizardkind, were becoming a nuisance to him. Apparently I was not the first soldier to be lost before ever reaching maturity._

There were more accounts, all told from the perspective of the dead, that Severus did not understand. He skimmed, pressed his lips to Roslyn's hair when she resituated herself against him more heavily, and his attention wasn't caught again until he reached another passage that seemed to be from a parent's point of view.

_I never knew what plagued her. Anxiety gripped her so persistently, for reasons I could not deduce on my own. Only fools attempted to read a child's mind, but I needed something. I invented a spell, and used it sparingly, lest I harm her fragile mind, but it let me see. What horrors my darling suffered. Visions and nightmares of things that, I found later, tended to come to fruition. Infants cannot learn Occlumency, but she was wise enough, wise so far beyond her years, that she had the beginnings of shields. Developed, surely, out of necessity and not consciously. Toddlers, however, or at least my clever one, could be taught. I only wish I could have protected her sooner._

Severus found the spell father down the page — _legilimenata_ — and glanced down at his drowsy child, hesitating. His curiosity was at war with his skepticism and anxiety.

Roslyn sat up suddenly, and as she often did, pressed her nose against his in her own version of an eskimo kiss.

"Sleepy?" He asked quietly.

She nodded as she pulled back, then watched him, holding his gaze as if she were waiting for something.

He frowned. "Is Mum still here?" He asked her gently. She nodded again. "I don't like the idea of testing spells on you, Little One. You could be hurt."

Roslyn shook her head and started chewing on the fingers of one hand, continuing to hold his gaze.

He sighed, glanced at the CD player that couldn't, _shouldn't_ , be playing a song on repeat from an album that wasn't in the machine, and held his wand more securely before returning his attention to Roslyn.

The last syllable of the spell had hardly left his lips when he could hear two voices, one that wasn't quite a voice and one that was all too familiar, conversing. He wasn't seeing the world through Roslyn's eyes, as one sometimes could with standard Legilimency, but he was able to get a general sense of what she understood, how her mind was organized, and what she could hear and see that he couldn't, only through his own perspective.

"Well done, Roslyn," Evangeline said gently. "Thank you, my good girl."

Roslyn looked away from him, towards the woman sitting beside them on the bed with her legs crossed, and Severus was momentarily caught off guard when the connection didn't break.

Roslyn's 'voice' sounded off to him, if only because she hardly spoke any recognizable words. Hearing a string of them sewn together was foreign to say the least. Some thoughts and ideas, however, she could make known without a full vocabulary, so her impatience when she 'responded' to Evangeline came as less of a surprise.

 _Make the music go away_ , she thought flatly.

"He wouldn't have believed me otherwise," Evangeline said patiently, but the CD player did go back to playing the song it had been on before, and it was only then that Severus realized there'd been a heaviness in his chest.

Roslyn had learned the sign for 'thank you' recently, so Severus knew she understood the concept, but she offered no thanks to her mother for doing as she'd demanded. He could feel her annoyance, her displeasure, and see the patchwork of thought fragments and ideas that she hadn't pulled into a solid, coherent thought: His expression when the CD player had changed. His anxiety when the journal had appeared. His discomfort with the situation in general. It all fueled her unhappiness, which she aimed at Evangeline, on his behalf. But there were also bits from that morning, when Evangeline had been sitting in the rocking chair keeping a still-upset Roslyn company as she begrudgingly sat in her crib, unable to sleep and wanting Severus instead.

He learned that Roslyn had been opposed to her crib not because she was an infant still learning that he existed even when he wasn't in her sight, but because she simply didn't want to be separate from him when she didn't have to be. She thought of the times he'd left suddenly to answer a summons, deduced that he was somewhere not safe since he never took her along, and had decided she'd prefer to stay with him every other moment. Sleeping by herself had, unintentionally on his part, denied her the comfort of sleeping near him and, as he'd already discovered, made her think he didn't want to spend that time with her.

Which had lead her to questioning whether he actually disappeared sometimes because he had to or because he didn't want to be with her.

Evangeline had, in telling Roslyn she needed to go, denied Roslyn the company of her other parent, inducing the hellish tantrum Severus had woken up to that morning.

Ignoring Evangeline, Severus cradled Roslyn as close as he dared and rocked her, trying to withhold the guilt and tears burning in his eyes.

" _Never_ think I don't want you near, Roslyn," he said hoarsely. "Never _ever_ , do you understand?"

He felt her agreement before she nodded against him and while the brief fluttering of ideas that swept through her mind could not be translated into an actual thought, he was able to understand the feeling she couldn't express in words.

She liked Uncle Regulus. She liked Uncle Theron and — he almost smiled — Uncle Lulu. And Auntie Cissa. And Poppy Orion. But she liked her father the most.

The books had told him he'd be her favorite person, but feeling it firsthand was quite a bit different than trusting words on a page.

He squeezed her gently. "You're my favorite too," he murmured. "Clever little monster."

The warmth such a simple assurance had caused her spread to him, so that long after Evangeline had vanished, without bidding them farewell, he noted, he was still reveling in the fact that he had the ability to make another person so happy with such a simple gesture. His admittance had earned him another Roslyn-style nose kiss and he realized she had the exact same effect on him.

Instead of settling her in a small fort of pillows spelled so she couldn't suffocate in them, as he usually did, Severus let her snuggle up beside him. The decision was as selfish as it was meant to prove to her that he'd missed her last night as well, and after a wave of his wand put out the fire, he followed her into sleep.

He had forgotten to cast a finite however. Though, upon waking up that morning to a grinning Roslyn after spending the night dream-reading books, playing, and _talking_ with her as much as they could given her age and the circumstances, Severus decided that the mistake was more of a pleasant accident. One he might repeat in the future, just not too much.

She needed to learn to talk, after all, which she might get lazy about if he was always privy to her desires telepathically.

* * *

Tension rolled off Theron in waves, making Severus worried and curious. Theo and Roslyn were both asleep on a charmed blanket in the middle of the room and Theron was watching their breathing as if he and Severus didn't have watches that would alert them, very painfully, if their children stopped breathing.

When Topaz brought a fresh pot of tea, Severus asked her to bring them a snack and some Firewhiskey as well. She returned moments later with two full tumblers and the bottle, which she left in the table next to the tray of biscuits, crisps, and sandwiches that had been floating beside her. She vanished again, and Severus assumed she'd sensed that he didn't need anything else. His lips twitched into a smile when she reappeared in the middle of the room a moment later with two blankets and Roslyn's hippogryff plushie. When both children were safely tucked in, and Mr. Feathers was secured beside his owner, Topaz kissed Roslyn's cheek before vanishing again.

"Two of mine are like that with Theo," Theron said tiredly, tossing back half his Firewhiskey in one go. "Protective little buggers."

Severus gave a quiet hum of agreement, but didn't bother mentioning that even his less brazen elves watched over Roslyn very diligently. They hadn't all adapted to the freedom that came with having a just master, making Topaz the only one truly forward with affection, but Severus assumed that time would change that. He only hoped that Roslyn didn't have trouble making human friends after bewitching the hearts of all their elves. Human children weren't nearly as loyal, by comparison, in his experience.

"Something's bothering you," said Severus. "And you're not trying to hide it, so it must be important."

Theron twirled his glass of whiskey and watched amber bits of light play on his sleeve. "We may need to reevaluate this plan of ours, Severus," he said. "This can bite us in the arse very quickly if Dumbledore is too senile and sentimental to see reason. And even then, the rest of his Order may think we're trying to trick them."

Severus sipped his whiskey with a pensive frown. "You've found the other spy."

Theron nodded, his eyes finding their way back to he children. "Yes."

"And they're someone of value to the Order," Severus guessed.

"Sentimental, maybe," said Theron. "They'll think he's too gentle to willingly help a madman, to weak for the Dark Lord to find important or useful. You'd have an easier time convincing them that Black had gone dark."

Severus put his drink down and rubbed at his eyes forcefully. "Pettigrew."

"Yes," Theron said. "How do you want to handle it?"

With a heavy sigh, Severus shrugged his shoulders. "I need to talk to Orion…"

Theron nodded absently. "Cissa and Lucius should be brought into the loop as well, but I suppose I understand why you'd want to start with the Blacks."

Severus glanced back at the children, his thoughts darkening as he watched his daughter sleep. Theron had no idea what the stakes were now and Severus hadn't exactly come to terms with the fact that his child was, would be, a necromancer on top of being a mage. Orion, at the very least, deserved to know why his daughter's life was forfeit, why Roslyn had to be protected from the Dark Lord at all costs, and Severus wasn't ready to bear his soul to his friends, even though he thought they'd probably help him.

Orion was the only other person Severus knew who might put Roslyn above their own safety.

"I'll see when he's free," said Severus. "Let me know if you find out anything else, of course."

"Naturally," Theron agreed. "Anything to fix this mess we're in."

Roslyn started shifting around, slowly waking up from her kip, and Severus managed a smile when she yawned and started kicking off her blanket. She sat up, quickly spotted the adults nearby, and offered her father a sleepy smile before she crawled over, Mr. Feathers in tow.

"Hello, sweetheart," Severus said quietly as he lifted her, and her toy, into his arms. "Sleep well?"

She cooed softly and burrowed against him in response, making both himself and Theron chuckle. Severus toyed with the soft hairs at the nape of her neck with one hand and gently rubbed her back with the other.

If things turned sour his days would be numbered. If nothing else, he'd start putting copied memories in a pensive so that even if this war made Roslyn an orphan, she would always have proof that he loved her.

He was a selfish man, however. He'd do his damndest to stay alive not only for Roslyn's sake, but because he refused to give up his reason for living. Not when he'd finally learned how to enjoy his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hello loves! This chapter ended up much more emotionally intense than I originally intended, but it works out with the plot so I'm happy with it. :) xoxo


	13. May & June

**Chapter 13: May & June**

Orion looked at the young man before him with a subtly critical eye. It had been less than a week since Severus had last brought Roslyn around to visit, and the two had always been close, but Orion had only seen them truly clingy with one another after something stressful or frightening had occurred. Roslyn was an affectionate child by nature, even though she tended to be more reserved and almost shy in public, just as Severus was an equally affectionate parent, but their body language was entirely off.

Since Severus' trust issues were almost painfully obvious, Orion feigned ignorance of what he saw. Severus had the misfortune to have been taught that if he cared about something, he couldn't trust anyone else with it and he aggressively extended that philosophy to Roslyn's wellbeing. Orion dreaded to think how Severus had learned such a behavior, but he hoped, for both Severus' and Roslyn's sakes, that he could provide an exception to the rule.

The silence in the drawing room was nearly drowning with one-sided tension when Regulus appeared in the doorway, his hair still slightly damp from his shower, wearing a Quidditch jersey and a pair of muggle blue jeans Severus had bought him as a gift. He smiled when his eyes landed on Roslyn and ended up taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch Orion.

"Hey, best friend," he said, grinning a little wider when she returned his sentiment with a small wave. "I was about to go get some tea and biscuits from Kreacher. Want to take a walk with me?"

Orion took note of her hesitation as Roslyn turned in her father's lap for what looked like a tight squeeze before she wriggled, feet first, off the edge of the couch. Severus hovered, spotting her until she was safely on the floor, and Roslyn crawled over to Regulus with practiced efficiency.

Regulus scooped her up, promptly pretended she was too heavy for him, and he 'fell over' on the couch, taking Roslyn with him. She giggled, and Orion noticed that her laugh sounded slightly off somehow, before she gave Regulus a look that was both amused and knowing.

"Clever thing," Orion muttered, winking at her when she glanced up at him. She blessed him with a smile.

"Alright, biscuits," Regulus announced, holding Roslyn against his shoulder as he stood. "We'll be back!"

Roslyn was still grinning when she waved 'bye-bye' before the two disappeared down the stairs.

Orion dropped the facade. "What happened?"

"Attempted crib training," Severus muttered. "Failed parenting."

Orion frowned at his tone. "The adjustment period is hard for any child, Severus. She doesn't seem traumatized to me. Clingy, yes, but that's normal."

Severus shook his head. "Every time I think I know where her limits are I underestimate her. She was so upset with me. I gave up. I won't put her through that."

"That bad?" Orion asked.

"And worse," Severus said hoarsely. Orion couldn't tell if he was going to emotionally shut down or start crying. "So much worse."

Orion was quiet the entire time Severus struggled to explain the night Roslyn was born, the notes about her powers Aschere had left him, and what he'd learned two nights prior after the failed crib training. He listened, absorbed, and started thinking of the problems he saw while still listening to Severus, and shooed Regulus away when he reappeared at the door. Roslyn had looked worried, but Regulus kept her entertained until Orion sent Kreacher to fetch them again.

"I assumed you'll want Regulus in the loop as well?" He asked.

"Yes," Severus said weakly. "I just don't want to discuss it in front of Roslyn. She understands so much, but she's still an infant. I don't want to confuse her with things she can only partially understand. Especially when it could affect her self-image."

"Reasonable," Orion agreed. "I would like to test that spell you mentioned if you're amiable to the idea. It sounds very enlightening and in an emergency, it may be beneficial for her to know more than one person understands what _she_ can understand."

Severus nodded. "It can be used by family members from what I understand of the text. The closer the relation, the clearer it functions, and the latin is specific. Since she's the daughter of your daughter, it should still work. Same for Regulus. Daughter of his father's daughter."

Regulus' footsteps on the stairs alerted them that Kreacher had delivered his message. Both he and Roslyn were smiling when they entered the room, the latter of the two with a biscuit in each hand. Orion noted that she frowned at Severus' tired, slightly miserable expression and promptly started to wriggle restlessly in her uncle's arms.

"What's the matter?" Regulus asked, frowning even as he gently set her on the floor.

Roslyn put her biscuits on the coffee table before crawling over to Severus and trying, unsteadily, to pull herself into a standing position. Severus picked her up and sat her in his lap before reaching over to get her biscuits. She resumed chewing on the one she'd already started and held the other one out to him again.

"Oh that's what you meant," said Regulus, sitting next to his father on the opposite sofa. "I thought she wanted to see if you'd let her have two."

Orion smiled wryly. "Sweet girl. She brought one back for Daddy."

It was obvious that Severus didn't know how to process Roslyn's gesture, which only made Orion see the situation more clearly.

"She's not upset with you," he said, ignoring Regulus' inquiring glance. "She's worried about you."

The confused expression on Severus' face was painfully telling, and Orion didn't to think about what kind of environment led to a man being such a loving, devoted father while simultaneously assuming the bond with his child was mostly one sided.

Severus hesitated as he took Roslyn's offering, but was able to muster up a small, albiet bemused, affectionate expression to give her. "Thank you, Little One."

She cooed at him and gave him one of her not quite eskimo kisses. After making sure he was actually eating it, Roslyn briefly pressed herself against his chest before wriggling off the sofa, feet first, and crawling over to Orion.

He raised an amused brow when she sat at his feet, arms raised and eyes twinkling.

"My turn for a cuddle, is it?" he asked playfully. She grinned around her biscuit and nodded emphatically. Orion reached down to pick her up under her arms and settle her equally light and heavy weight against his chest. "There she is. Hello, sweet girl."

She babbled around her biscuit and waved at him with her free hand, making him smile as pride stirred in his chest. She was by no means safe unless they kept her secrets hidden of course, but she was still brilliant and that was more than enough to secure her grandfather's affection.

"Can Poppy try that spell your Daddy used to hear inside your head, sweet one?" Orion asked her gently.

Roslyn, clever thing she was, never ceased to amaze her family, and nodded her consent. Severus briefly explained to Regulus that there was a lot more to Roslyn's story he needed to hear and gave him a cut down explanation of the spell Orion would be testing.

"Well that's wicked," Regulus said, his surprise evident in his tone. After a moment of thought, he grinned. "I'm anxious to see if it works for us. See how much she understands of what we say."

"A lot," said Severus. "She doesn't quite think in sentences, yet. It's mostly associations, feelings, and ideas that don't neatly translate into full thoughts."

"It's simplified," said Orion, "But also very complex, under the circumstances."

Roslyn blew a raspberry at him, seemingly on purpose, and though her exact meaning went unheard, she succeeded in gaining her grandfather's attention. Orion gave her an amused look, which she returned with a grin.

"What is it, sweet one?" he asked.

She blinked at him and made a few softer sounds. It took him a moment to realize they were pointed.

"Eager to be heard?" he asked, trying not to laugh at her impatience.

She nodded and sent a grin at Regulus when he chuckled. Severus, humoring her, said the incantation and with well-concealed excitement, Orion repeated it aloud.

The first thing he noticed was the pure, unfiltered happiness flooding his awareness, and that the emotion was not his own.

Roslyn smiled around her biscuit, her eyes alight with what Orion could only define as innocent mischief as she directed her first solid thought in his direction

_Poppy!_

A bark of stunned, joyous laughter left Orion before he pulled her close to kiss her cheek.

"Oh, sweetheart, what a clever little thing you are," he said, still chuckling. "And who's that then?" He inclined his head towards Regulus, who gave her a small wave that she returned.

Regulus and "Weg-gus" rang through her mind simultaneously, the name she knew and the name she knew how to say overlain in her silent answer.

"Well done," Orion praised quietly, distracted by the stream of images and ideas she associated with him and his son, including, briefly, Aschere. Seeing his daughter grown, and the fact that Roslyn was the only one who could see her, settled in his chest like an odd, uneven weight.

Roslyn frowned at him, her concern a gentle, inquiring sort of thought that warmed his heart and made him hold her closer.

"Thoughtful child," he murmured, smiling when she toyed with some of his hair, comparing its softness to her father's. Regarding Severus, he asked, "Can the spell be used by more than one person at a time?"

Severus frowned and shrugged. "The text didn't say. Theoretically yes, as Legilimency can be used upon one person by many at a time. Though standard legilimency is much more invasive and harmful. This spell seems harmless so far."

Roslyn wriggled and Orion heard her desire to go back to her father, setting her gently on the floor. She smiled at him at him and touched a hand to her chin before she crawled away, her meaning echoing clearly before Orion cast a finite.

"You're welcome," he said fondly, smiling as he watched her use Severus' pant leg to help pull herself into a standing position.

"She's getting strong," Regulus said. "How was chatting with an infant?"

"Enlightening," said Orion. "She has so much empathy and understanding. Her thoughts are abstract but easy to decipher like Severus said. Such a caring little thing."

Roslyn unintentionally echoed her grandfather's point by reaching for her father and making a happy, gurgling sound when he lifted her into his arms. Severus interpreted her unwavering stare correctly, and cast silently cast the spell to find out what she wanted to communicate to him.

"Cast it again," he said to the others a moment later. "We should be able to hear her."

Regulus' pronunciation of the spell was verified before all three men cast it together. Roslyn situated herself in Severus' lap so her back was against his chest, looking between Orion and Regulus with a wide smile on her face.

"Hey, best friend," said Regulus, letting out a gust of air when Roslyn echoed the sentiment back to him. "This is wicked."

Roslyn's joy was infectious as she continued to grin at them.

 _Play game?_ rang clearly in each of their minds. Regulus' smile grew and Orion chuckled before they obligingly took turns entertaining her, basking in the unfiltered joy only a child could radiate so thoroughly.

* * *

Severus sat heavily on Theron's couch with Roslyn contentedly settled against his shoulder and let her diaper bag rest at his feet. They were the last to arrive, but that had been expected. Severus had needed to discuss the Pettigrew issue with Albus.

Orion, Regulus, Narcissa, Lucius, and Theron made up their group, plus, of course, their respective offspring. Draco appeared to be asleep, or nearly, in his father's arms as Lucius stood behind Narcissa, gently swaying for Draco's sake. Theo was curled up in what looked like a horribly awkward almost fetal position in his father's lap, but seemed comfortable enough, and was content to entertain himself with a teething ring and by toying with the buttons on Theron's shirt.

There was silence for a moment while Severus got settled, then Orion spoke up.

"So what's the plan?" he asked.

Severus sighed. "Albus agreed to stage an 'accident' in which Pettigrew will be knocked unconscious and have some level of need for his shirt to be removed to assess his health," he said, frowning. "He says he'll stage it himself at the next Order meeting, and will get back to me once he's made sure the mark isn't being glamoured in any way, assuming it's there of course."

Narcissa scoffed at the same time Theron and Orion rolled their eyes.

"Assuming," said Lucius. "Batty old codger."

"We also agreed that my presence at Order meetings once Pettigrew has been removed will be postponed," Severus continued. "Least they think I set the rat up for failure. And because I'm bringing Roslyn with me, regardless. Albus seemed amused that there was a small faction of 'deserter death eaters' as he put it, and sees no reason for all of us to not become part of the Order in some way. Though I pointed out that we were our own unit, not a branch of his soldiers. He suggested we choose somewhere we're all comfortable inviting the Order to, if we were uncomfortable meeting in the home of one of the current members."

"We absolutely will not be meeting Albus' precious Order on their territory," said Orion, clearly annoyed that the option would even be considered. "Sirius is part of this Order as well. They can come to Grimmauld Place. The downstairs drawing room is big enough, even with the Weasley brood."

"Next order of business?" said Theron, causing Regulus to sit up a little straighter.

"Well, we have a problem on our hands," he said. "It seems Tom Riddle has…discovered the means to securing his immortality." As horror spread through the group, he frowned. "There's no such thing as guaranteed immortality, though. He can still be stopped, just not permanently killed until the problem's been taken care of."

Orion slowly loosed a breath. "God's alive that man has lost all sense. Horcruxes?"

Regulus nodded solemnly, then glared. "I suspected something was going on a few months ago, but until he asked to borrow Kreacher, I wasn't certain. I know where one is, but it's guarded with very dark magic." He paused and glanced around his comrades in silence. "Are we telling Dumbledore?"

"Yes," said Severus. "But not until the fuss over Pettigrew has died down. Assuming Albus isn't already aware of this new development."

He spared a glance at his watch while a thoughtful silence draped over them. Roslyn was awake, though barely from the looks of it. He started rubbing her back, hoping to coax her to sleep while wondering why she was trying to stay awake in the first place. Especially since she wasn't upset-tired, just resting quietly.

"We'll do whatever we have to," Narcissa said eventually. "Draco will be walking soon…I refuse to sit idly while the life he's barely started is at risk."

Murmurs of agreement swept through the group as Severus instinctively held Roslyn a bit tighter, his own determination spiking briefly. And his heart melted when her grip tightened on him as well, one of her little hands replicating the circles he was rubbing into her back against his shoulder. She muttered his name, but by her tone, and the information he knew to be on his watch, he knew she was acknowledging him, not requesting his attention. He kissed her hair, let his cheek gently rest against her feather soft curls, and took more comfort than he probably should have in her affectionate mimicry.

* * *

Albus's face was pale and devoid of its usual dotty cheer when Severus and Roslyn came through the floo in the headmaster's office. Minerva looked as if she could be sick all over the carpets at any moment and her eyes, like Albus's, were red-rimmed.

Severus sighed and did his best to summon a touch of compassion for the pair, but found he could only manage indifference.

"What's being done with him?" Severus asked. "Going too public with this information would compromise my position, but he cannot be allowed to remain with the Order. He's already given them everything they need to know about all the children involved. You know he's planning to destroy every family in your ranks."

"He's being kept away," said Albus. "Where he is, he'll be unable to answer any summons, nor know what's going on. The rest of the Order is, naturally, distraught."

Severus shifted Roslyn's weight on his hip, making no move to sit in front of the desk or offer any sort of condolences. If they were expecting him to find pity for the Marauders, or even Lily, they were out of their minds.

"I still do not wish to be revealed for quite some time," was Severus' bland response. "My…comrades are not comfortable being revealed yet either, but when the time comes, we do have a proposed meeting place."

Albus seemed to brighten slightly at the news. "Where?"

"Number 12 Grimmauld Place," said Severus, hiding his amusement at their stunned expressions.

Roslyn, on the other hand, laughed freely as Minerva stuttered over how to politely phrase her inquiry.

"I'm not explaining in detail," said Severus, lips twitching as he glanced at his still-giggling infant. "It's my, Roslyn, and the Black's business, and no one else's. But Orion has… _insisted_ that his home be used for meetings involving myself and the other defectors."

"Reasonable," said Albus. "Especially while the others are adjusting to you all. When would you prefer to reveal yourself?"

"Late summer," Severus replied, the answer escaping almost too quickly. "Roslyn will be with me."

The finality in his tone wasn't missed and Albus nodded. "The others' children are also often in attendance. When necessary, the older ones are sent to watch the youngers in other rooms, but she won't be an issue."

 _Yes, she will be_ , Severus thought to himself. Sirius would be a problem. Orion had confidence that his eldest son would adjust once he knew the truth, knew that Roslyn was the only tangible thing left of the sister he didn't remember, but Severus would count that chicken if and when it hatched.

* * *

Severus sighed with relief when he finished reading the missive in his hands. The timing of everything had been changed by Dumbledore again, but one thing stayed on time.

He had officially completed his potions mastery.

When he glanced at Roslyn, who was playing on the rug at his feet, she was already looking at him. Her head was tilted in curiosity as she chewed on her fingers and pet her stuffed Hippogryff with the other hand. His lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile.

"Daddy doesn't have to leave for lessons anymore," he told her, despite how foolish he felt trying to explain the minute bit of pride he felt for himself. She seemed to know the difference between him leaving for a summons and leaving to run an errand she couldn't partake in, so he figured she might have some grasp of what he was saying. "Daddy's a master now."

Roslyn smiled around her fingers and traded teething for clapping for him. He chuckled.

"You only know that I've done something good, don't you?" he asked.

Roslyn nodded, though she was neither old enough to be bashful about him catching her bluff nor old enough to _not_ be genuinely delighted on his behalf even without knowing what she was delighted about. The resulting shine in her bright green eyes made him smile. She was happy for him, possibly even proud of his accomplishment, though he couldn't be certain.

She could crawl — now without bruising herself, thankfully — faster than he thought should be possible given her size, and she understood a solid bit of what was said to her, despite the fact that she wouldn't be walking for a while yet. She tried her damndest to catch up to her waddling and toddling cousins and would likely be an early walker due to her efforts, but it still amused him how old she seemed verses how small she was.

She'd be an absolute menace when she could _talk_ , he was sure of it.

"Shall we celebrate?" he asked her, knowing her eager nod would be a given. "Perhaps cake?"

Her eyes widened and he chuckled again when a low "Mmmmm" escaped her. Their thoughts, it seemed, were on the same page.

"Topaz," he said, eyeing Roslyn's delighted fidgeting as the elf appeared next to him. "Could you see if Opal and Sapph have time to make a cake, please?"

"Black tie mousse, Master?" Topaz asked, though her expression was somewhat amused.

"Please," he said. "It's Roslyn's favorite."

Topaz left, though her expression told him she wasn't buying his words for a minute. But old habits died hard and Severus wasn't about to start admitting there was more than one Snape in his manor with a taste for dark chocolate.

* * *

Roslyn sat between Draco and Theo on the floor, once again equipped with a bowl of cake, only this time they had magic hats and were given bigger slices. Well, Theo still got the biggest, and hers was still the smallest, but it was more than she remembered from the last party.

It was Draco's turn for a birthday and before she could try to figure out how to ask Daddy if she'd have one, he'd said hers was soon. He'd looked a bit sad when he said it, but told her not to worry when she hugged him and said something about losing track of time.

She wasn't quite sure what Daddy had meant, but birthdays were fun by the looks of Theo and Draco's.

Draco seemed to like his presents, most of which Roslyn recognized as toys. He'd only really paid attention to the broom Uncle Lulu bought him, though, and wouldn't let Theo touch it when he tried to have a turn. They'd yelled at each other for a while until Roslyn decided that she could communicate without the proper words and yelled at both of them in turn. They seemed to gather that she wanted them to stop fighting and ignored each other for a while. She gave them both hugs so they knew she wasn't still angry and kissed Theo's cheek when he pushed his unfinished cake in her direction.

"All gone," he'd said, and she wished she could tell him thank you with words.

She didn't finish the extra cake and decided she wanted to sit with her Poppy for a while, until she noted the obstacles in her way. Theo and Draco just walked around the mess or stepped over it, but she had to crawl around all of Draco's new toys to get to the couch and just didn't want to.

Feeling frustrated, she crawled to the nearby table instead and pulled herself up. Walking didn't _look_ hard. Theo and Draco could do it. Daddy did it. Roslyn could do it.

She glanced at Poppy, suddenly realizing how far away he was and frowning. Daunted by her self-appointed task, Roslyn stood there frowning at the path she no longer wanted to take and wondering if it wouldn't be better to just wait until Poppy was closer.

"Roslyn."

She turned at the sound of Daddy's voice, holding the table for support as she looked over her shoulder.

He had an eyebrow raised. "Thinking about something?"

She nodded, glanced at the space between them and finding it significantly less than the space between her and Poppy. Maybe she would try this first.

Moving one foot proved terror-inducing as Roslyn almost lost her balance and clung to the table's edge trying to regain it. How did Theo and Draco walk by themselves without being scared?

Defeated, she lowered herself back to the floor and crawled instead, accepting the hand Daddy held out so she could pull herself back to her feet. She decided that birthday parties could be _not_ fun too.

"Patience," Daddy said. "You'll learn, I promise."

Roslyn sighed and waved at Poppy from across the couch instead of going over for a hug and hoped that Daddy was right.

* * *

**A/N: I just realized how long it's been since I updated this and omg you guys I'm SO SORRY. For some reason, my brain thought the first half of this chapter had been posted by itself already? Idk, this semester was rough so I'm gonna blame that :) xoxoxo**


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